Through the glade there wound a quiet brook
Where I
designed to sit and read a book
There
sung to sleep by the morning sun
lost the
book that I had brought, and dreamt one
As the
breeze would stir to turn the page
I walked strange
forests from another age
Like a
ghost that travels on the air
I passed
through a stranger’s dream, and woke there
In that
dream world of gray and shadow
The
stranger’s dream was dull and hollow
Plodding one
step on and then the next
Nothing
waiting at the end, only rest
There I
forgot it was just a dream
Forgot
that I lay sleeping by the stream
Became
the stranger I didn’t know
And thought
that I was living, even so
Somewhere
I slept with eyes wide open
As I walked
a lightless world and ashen
Where in
a languid pool I thought I’d scry
To ask a
single question, who am I?
And there
deep into the pool I fell
The shallow stream stretched to become a well
'til it tossed me out in a darkened wood
Beside a
sleeping stranger, there I stood
I saw an
old book beside his hand
As he lay
sprawled in darkness upon the strand
A lifetime had passed as the sun had waned
And there
you will find me still, in the glade
-BA Lawson
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