One day, the sun sowed its seeds
and a swan sang its song at dawn
among rushes. The song reads:
“Eve is dreaming of a better Adam,
night is dreaming of a brighter day.”
Musing by the stream,
I had some time
to let my mind unwind
and unravel the riddle
of my life a little.
I realized that
more than anything,
I want the chance to sing
and turn my hand to verses;
boneheads to rhyming curses,
mermaids to sweet wet nurses.
I also came to see
beneath the trees that day
that a person is a poem
speaking itself into existence,
blending thought and feeling
till they mingle in a single stream of meaning,
for that’s the art of dreaming.
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