Cowering Late At Night
So many dreams dissolve
Leaving the empty spaces
Of hollowed-out souls
And gutted lives.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
We were promised rain-bowed skies
And seas like sheets of glass,
Fertile soil and gentle breezes,
Fruit to pluck from tree and vine
And all things under our dominion.
Go forth and multiply.
And we did.
Mightily.
At least that is the story
That we tell ourselves
As we cower at night in our caves.
I believe we dream to compensate.
We’re forced to face strange images
Of once familiar things
And scenes of thinly disguised reality
In order to have reality make sense.
We populate our dreams with terror
To offset our days of waking terror.
A delicate balancing act
That occasionally goes awry
And we’re confronted with
The madness of our dreams,
Or the madness of our reality.
It’s often difficult
To distinguish the difference
When we cower late at night.