Is It Day Poem by David Gray

is it day?
does the sun light the sky?
does the sun light?
I feel anew a breaking
a quaking trip down fear
a tiring tiresome bothersome mess
a spirit that cracks
that hardens.
I grow weak.
I can not remember
nor picture tomorrow.

I.

I remember this,
it is old and far.
Did I die?
Is this rebirth?
Things seem foggy,
memories that are not mine,
I feel so old now
and so nostalgically bitter.
I cannot remember.
I want what was not
what never was
nor
ever could be.
I want a sunlit hill
in a wood,
ancient.
I want dreams of standing
I want running for years
drinking wines of legend
being small in a big place.
I want to be
that which isn't
I want to know
things that cannot be forgotten
as they are not
nor ever were.