I am remembering my dreams again–
Sleep-borne shadows of the world,
Not grand ambitions for how my life could go.
Those are long since gone away,
Others’ wills having worked in the world,
Mine never having been so strong,
No more true than the slumbering seemings
I have remembered more in these past days
Than for years that have pissed themselves away,
And I have to think that I was more at ease
When sleep was a blank
Than I am when it tries to show me something
I do not want to see.

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