Sleep
Endlessly we wander alone
stopping here and there
for a fleeting impression
Lightheartedly we venture
on winding paths of denial
through windy canyons of hope
to enrich ourselves
increase our worldly gain
The world spins around us
in great, magical, mystical circles
as eternities pass us by
unasked, unwanted
Under a setting sun
the cricket sits and sings
at the first appearing stars
telling of ages he has seen
and miracles that have never been
Next to him a man who dreams
of things he cannot see
and shrouded things yet to be
In the end, what do we become?
Our mother, our father and add some?
Or are we a book in a foreign speech
one that we are just now learning to read?
We shape the world
The world shapes us
God is a lie
but only if we lie to ourselves