How can I weave my words together in ways that would revive the dream? How can I convey my desperate pangs of longing for her beauty, which is fled from me? Is there any accurate translation? Can what is branded in my heart ever be transcribed to something scribbled on a page?
I ponder the problem and remain silent; unequal to the task.
And so I lay me down to sleep, this mystery to keep...
But in that sleep, what dreams may come? Perhaps a nightmare worse than what is real: "what-ifs" falling like the fading embers of fireworks in the distant dark of night. (I plead with the embers to fade slowly that darkness not be again all encompassing.)
CJK (Oct. 2005)
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