Dreaming,

Dreaming,

Feeling alive,

And ever young.

Even when faced with

Impossible situations,

Conscious of nothing

But the moment.

Then comes detachment,

A voice of reason,

Reminding and reassuring,

If only we would listen,

Before truth is captured,

And splintered into

Shards of

Wishful thinking.

Disassembled,

Re-presented,

For the hundredth time,

Moments of pleasure

Endlessly sought,

In fruitless endeavour.

Lost between the familiar

And a memory.

Visions of difference

Disrupt an uneasy peace,

Impose other rules,

As a dream flight

Ends in turbulence.

Wings burn,

And what was easily learned

Becomes a fall,

Cloaked by dark

And circumstance,

As a cold world,

Harsh and sharply edged,

Elbows awkward truths

Between the spaces

Waking nights,

And clouded dreams

Created.