No dream for last night

 

It has been a while I cannot dream at night,

the sea glass is not transparent any more

and real is what engages me

between the space waves

of time left behind,

returned as an open check

that hits gently my neck.

 

The crystal light is missing.

 

I have to go through

the old and the new,

which means a lot of dedication

on what we call present and a day,

no matter how we can, we just do it

as my hands, the same that classify now

used to be in the clay.

 

The expectation might come true

and there was hidden

the point of truth and my vigilant eye.

 

May come true,

the current disorder epics do narrate too,

but I need to move on,

cut this tunnel voice,

make another phone call, come to surface

and walk faster, think deeper;

during the still and scare moments

of the ordinary days I put my feet in order

and let my upcoming dreams live in disorder.

 

The crystal light left me indeed.

 

No dream for last night

again;

Beckett,

my simulation story

is the landmark name

every time egoism plays games

and I cannot wait for that detail

that will make me see different.

 

Dreams are open air figures too;

they visit us upon arrival

to the time place

made by our composure.   

 

Between facts and facts under construction, the crystal light returns.