Everything is a dream, a mist that drifts over this vague
landscape, exposing things at odd moments, just not all at once, or all we need
to see, the places, part of a dreamscape we revisit again and again at night,
never real enough, often a tease, like a sad Alice stopping briefly for a bit
of tea, unable to make sense of what she sees, when she meets those who take
tea with her, and so, she moves on from this seat at the table to the next,
hoping the tea will taste better, or the view might bring her Joy, nothing she
sees adding any detail to the dream, nothing to part the mist she strolls
through, or explain how big she seems at times, or small, as she sneaks through
keyholes into places she was never meant to be, all of it too vague, too unreal,
and yet at the end of the day, it is also all she has, and might have to live
with
No comments:
Post a Comment