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Vienna Circle
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Dreams Presage
Wreathed in dreams a fading light;
floating cold and passive in control.
If I may trust my sleepers eyes
my dreams presage some woeful fate.
Seething plague of the mind?
Or priceless pearl from force divine?
On and on beyond in time,
our dreams presage the changing days.
The poets glimpse is in his rhymes.
A flash for the politician callous in reply.
A glance for thieves portrayed in crimes.
Their dreams presage of unchanging ways.
Windows in the wall appear when questioned,
curtained placements I have seen.
Shadows on the floor contrast,
explore the ones that last for what you need.
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Situations, conversations, expectations;
ever changing scenes.
Answers in demand to understand these crux un- coverings
we dream.
For the people in the rain, shelters on the way.
All the people led astray, soon you'll find your way.
For the soldier in the field, waiting to be killed.
For the orphan all alone, left without a home.
For the preacher out of faith, faith will find a way.
For the undertaker's son, buried with his gun.
Just listen for the lark's song.
All around the people say they're waiting to awake,
to make these broken hearts go.
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