Last night I had the strangest dream;

I was drifting along the stream

When suddenly a cry echoed

It was not quiet nor quite loud

Somewhere among the highest cloud

And into morning it swallowed

Everything at frightening pace

Leaving of the world not a trace.

When mist finally lifted

And the moon’s pale light shone again

I was at this moment gifted

With a sight lifting my long bane:

The vastest valley of white snow

Upon which rained a purple glow,

In the middle of this aerie

Danced a lone, beautiful fairy,

 I cannot say why this touched me

So deeply and so profoundly

But upon morning I awoke

With a strange lightness in my heart

And not a single word I spoke

As I basked, pensive, in this art…


Substance over form this one. At least I hope.

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