Dreams are journeys
Taking you to a
Well known land
Again and again
Deep Sleep
The Great Quest for Reality
I had this feeling of losing
Grip of reality
It seemed like reality had its
Benefits and deficits
The question is what is what
Dreaming is one level
True but mercurial disappearing
In the morning light
Only leaving slightly contours of memories
The repetitive world of every day
Is very much an illusion
When we leave it behind is just gone
Like a dream
Therefore my question is
What is reality and when is it really
Reality?
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Borderland
Waking up in the middle of the night
From the catacombs of dreams
A tunnel going from living to being alive
The dreams keep me happy
Reality disappoints me
Still I prefer being awake
And the balance between
Dreaming and Living
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Mixed Breed
Trying to avoid starvation
Which always happens when
The mind and the body
Do not go together
When the mind is divided
Screaming out pain and frustration
When two different souls
Share one body
Wanting so much
Achieving so little
Striving in different
Directions
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Trial and error
It is sometimes hard to be forgiving
Trial and error has limited value
On a long journey through the night
Makes me more sure of this
But inside us other things turn
Out to be true
In the pale morning light
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The Journey of the Night
This journey takes place every night
And it is long and arduous
Silence regains
Hardly a word is uttered
And in the morning
Most things said and done are forgotten
Only vague memories remains
Loss of words
It’s structure
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The Third Night
I could not sleep
The night felt like an eternity
A five the sleep took me away
Like the wind in trees
Going on in eternity
A Woman I became
Full of fear and agony
I died in childbirth
Twenty years I spent
With you
When I woke up
My bed was full of blood
Even though it was a dream
The body suffered a great deal
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The Second Night
The second night came and
Sleep fell over me
I could see the stars
As I entered someone else’s head
A man that had long been dead
His memories, beautiful and true
Living as a herd, a man of the land
I followed him for many years
Moving cattle in Brittany
In the 18th century
But the wind in the
Trees took me away from his
Efforts and misery
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Being
Waking up is a meaningless
Interruption of a dream
Being a wake is a form of suffering
Given to us as a punishment
For some unknown sin
Maybe we never happened
Being a chimera
Viewed by other
Chimeras
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The Present State
I see no hope
For the future
Or
For the past
Just present lies
That are used
To abuse people and places
At this very moment
Schibolet 