I once had a dream...
I once had oxygen,
I had a Dancing Serpent
I, we, rained with fire.
I, we, extended our existence together.
Dreaming and reality was the same,
the sheets, the covers, the forces of nature,
the magic sand, the beach--not yet forgotten--
the warm of your womb, the wind blowing,
the kiss under the waves;
the canary dying for us at Leo,
were our dreams and reality.
The magical reality was us,
the magical dream was we:
“it was such a beautiful dream”,
and I, we, did not protected it,
“from any remnants” of a cruel reality.
Are we safe to be real, or is it time
to prolong and protect the dream,
before it kills us completely ? That is,
if it is not already dead!
I live to dream and die,
and if I have died my dream,
then to live without dreaming
is to already be dead alive.
. ... and then we killed it… for another.