The restless turning of the clouds across the moon
Reminds me of a somnambulant child
Not able to sleep soundly
Ever thrashing
Muttering from the depths of sleep.
A nightmare perhaps?
But clouds dare not dream
For nocturnal musings and internal stories
Play out in the recesses of a creature called Man
Whose desires may never be manifest upon waking.
For it is Man who denies nature
Its recourse and recompense;
What is a human
But an animal
That believes it has overcome the natural world?
And yet
— and yet
Still
he
dreams.
YOU ARE READING
From Sea and Sky
PoetryPoems about the edge of dreams and the shadows we see out of the corners of our eyes while half-asleep.
