One of These Dreams Must Be False

March 23, 2006

What is love for
But to dream?
And to (hopefully) discern,
Which is false and which is true,
And to then arise, (eventually)
Having earned the right
To say,
"I have been to that grey land of the dead,
I have walked in the black and white land of the coming-alive,
And I stand, now, bright-eyed, in the white land of the living."

Who is to say
Which is the dream,
But the lover, or the fighter, or the philosopher-king?

Who can compare what dreams may come
with today's waking life
but saints and mystics, and those who nearly die...

I
do not know,
yet, which is true.
Then let each man and woman lie, prostrate,
In the mud, for a spell;
Let them kneel before live statues, and repentant fools
With eyes sewn shut;

And let them learn, they that will,
Whether to be in love is to live a lie,
To pine, and hope for life, and then to die,
Vanishing in a puff of desperate smoke,

Or whether to be in love is to be alive is to be
floating, flying with the gods, knowing,
"I see that I was once asleep."


Glory to God alone.