The Dreamer – A New Poem

What if this world were nothing more than a whisper, spoken into the ears of a sleeping child?

Would you still wish to wake?

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The sun and stars are papier-mâché memories of a time come and gone — remnants of a buried God.

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The wind is a tickle and it all falls away to reveal an empty box.

Would you wish to see inside?

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To hold your heart in your own hands is to know love. But it is granular like the fine sand of an eroding beach.

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A floating corpse smiles and breathes life into the decay. And you see only in colors, brilliant and fractal.

Would you force your eyes shut?

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Sleep. If you wake, it dies and you will go with it. The clock ticks and the clock tocks but there are no hands to guide you.

The pain you feel lets you know it’s real but the pain is wrong. The pain is false.

Would you still heed its warnings?

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Questions abound with answers absent.

You still ask.

You will always ask — there is no question to this.

An answer is like a death as the mystery evaporates into the ether.

The dream perishes and you wake into the pitch black of nothing.

You scream with no sound, feel with no touch, hear nothing but deafening silence.

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To know the dreamer is to know yourself.

Would you dare?

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