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Inside the womb I dreamed.
And dreamed my way
into this world
of stark reality.
The soothing sounds
of amniotic fluid,
the careful movements
of my guardian,
were lulling me
at first, to sleep.
But, as I grew
my world unfolded and
engulfed me.
I drank my fill
and dreamed
about the next.
I chewed the nipples
of my territory,
and grabbed the flesh
and scratched,
but mostly touched.
And dreamed.
The helter-skelter world,
as it demanded
my unshared presence
laid some dreams to rest.
I wonder if it really
is gray matter,
that fits together fragments
for the best.
I dream of all the things
I read in books.
Of distant shores
and people unlike me.
And later started dreaming
of reality,
and could not see
why it was not a dream.
Perhaps I never left
those hazy times,
whose purple mist
was pleasant to be in.
And when the sun
persuades
the fog to rise
it's difficult to ascertain
which world I'm in.
It's never a surprise.
Sounds dreamy, does it not?
And pleasantly congenial.
But God was right
to have our nights
reserved for dreams.
The daydreamer
who has not learned the rules
may wake himself
by hearing his own screams.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: fog, purple, dream, world, together, sleep, people, sun, god, rose
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