I come close to Audrey Malloy, and feel the sadness of loss of three people he loved and that the sands of time like the hourglass, is past, present and future, stages we all pass thru, and like sand it goes so fast, especially present.
Dream within a dream, is marvellous, and it needs no critic, or more than the depth of the poet's own rendering.
What is a dream, something you can't analyse, ot take apart, it lives so close to us all, familiar and yet fleeting, we all dream, and what we dream belongs to our past, the daily routine, and the future's expectations. Panmelys
The reflection of the world into our eyes seem nothing but the real. As the poem progress the doubt arises whether it could all come clean with that exact clearence. The clarity of the final outlook leaves nothing but the susception of the mind's ability to percieve or link to what is to be percieved in the reasons' eye.