The Futility Of Dreams
I live my life; dwelling in emptiness;
floating; one dream to another;
longing to feel that passionate caress;
of my long lost dream lover.
Tho she be a figment of my imagination;
an image of the devil’s disguise;
her love is the essence of life’s foundation;
heaven shines from her eyes.
Although, I cannot see her whole face;
I know that she still sees me;
she is the angel of love and grace;
with whom I am meant to be.
I cannot fathom such perfection;
she is beyond what I deserve;
still, she remains my love connection;
if only I had the nerve.
Some dreams are wishes of ardent desire;
leaving us excited and shaken;
we dream of kisses with passion’s fire;
then, suddenly; we awaken.
I can only see her; when I’m asleep;
I'm a coward; when I’m awake;
I’ve sown a love; I shall never reap;
dreams of love are a mistake.
Why do I dream of what I can’t have;
and things that can never be;
my dreams of love are a useless salve;
such dreams are futility.
Monty 1.26.26. # 3,160