How often is it said that life’s a dream
And we the leaf-light drifters in its wake
Who spin by winds on ripples made of “seems,”
The visions Heaven breathes for our soul’s sake:
A world caught in a water-drop we see
That shines for one brief moment like a star
Within this vale of mixed reality;
Stirs up the cool blue blood in sleeping hearts
To dreams beyond our web and wane of grief,
As we are borne upon a whirling tide
To wonders deeper, higher, than belief.
How often is it called a sleep, to die—
But you whose dreams have threaded life for me,
Have waked at last and nevermore shall dream.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt. Check it out!