It has been six years since the dream. But it is like now, its immanence in my psyche assured, a continuum of the life that was and sadly still is. I shudder and resolve. After all it is just a dream. Yet it stares at me even as it wanes on its own, perhaps sorry for a sour soul.
It is indeed lame now. For how long does it shoulder its angst livid, unresolved, one it alone seems to bear yet knows its reach others just ignore. That hurts it knows that this pain all endures in ways even more profound than it ought to be sublime. I ask. Questions flow. Awe rules as nothing stays the same.
In forlorn it lays, a soul that longs for pain, it has in ways astray it cowers that pain may go away. I try. There needs to be no pain, my soul says, only for one that shows the way it craves, in hope, not despair for all else to be free of pain.
It cries it seems for now in vain. The pain must not go away it says. Nor should its tears dry up again, only to well up with pain. I agree with shame that such may be ours to see what we render to naught to be vane and sail, away in a dream we live in pain so deep in vain. It sails, and flies away with us in pain, to change our ways so that the pain may go away.
We cry. Lost in a space we made to wrought the pain we say makes all others that hurt seem moot to rate. Yet, we know I think we hurt for want what we seek that lack we fail to make. I ask. Again, I cry in pain as the dream before me never goes away, the hurt that my soul beholds that should not be yet is, tears it to a core revealed that hurts even more to see.
It ought to be sublime, albeit its essence even more, as it defines not I, not anyone, but itself as the enamel of strength and the resolve it shields from rot, to be sure to be there to start with in an armor of love for all to be free of pain whose nature wrenches all else, love transformed, skinless, helpless, lost in time, to grope in vain.
So, I say it cries again. Still dreaming some day all else to fall in place my hope stays the same. Would it happen my soul labors still to know, anguish its friend now its says, one that makes its pain a labor of the immense hope I harbor, and relish, its bosom, kind to stilts to save, my soul meek though rather not it says it needs embrace such praise.
It is time now it says my dream works through all its fears of gain to lose changing its ways. To watch our pain evolve to ways that feel as though we hate the pain we need to lead us away from being astray it says shows we fail again to see the gain we lose not embracing the pain we should.
It says it feels our pain. Yet, we feel no pain. I know it tells me as it does we do, but not what we should. It says that is why the dream remains, to remind us of the pain we feel again, and again. I fail to block the dream and to face the pain so it goes away for another to take its place, for me to play the role I should in pain, so we would never go astray, again.
In sewers they lay, concrete trails of trucks above in pain their eyes struggle in vain to shut out the pain. Rumbling all night to their vanes we credit the bridges in some way stay the same, if only for the eyes beneath to labor less to keep the pain at bay. We cry for them in vain, we should knowing all we do, embracing the pain we should we shun, not cry at all, yet we cry.
The choice is stark to see children die in vain, every second to bugs that fly with us as we fritter our souls away, in pain, to bugs we seem to love to pay, so we think we gain not lose but know we lose our gain even as we cry again, for our future in vain. We cry, again, and again, in pain, the kind we shudder to think perhaps not in vain, but know for sure only speaks to our loss again.
We dream on, with faces agony strike all over again, night and day, emblazoned in space, frozen, time lost in space before our very eyes in a dream perplexed its soul resigned it says to be sure we live again. From time to time its rays of hope shimmer, someone comes along to tug darkness away, and the children smile again, momentarily it seems for its frailness to show as it struggles to stay afloat to bring the smiles back again, for another second in time, space thawed, forever it hopes, again.
So, in tandem we go, again, on a mystic voyage it seems. We cry together, smile together, our sojourn inextricably intertwined, our future even more so. It says it would not give up on me, to find a place for this pain to stay that we share with all that does not want to go away. It seems assured that it would rouse again, from its crypts of yore that we condemn that we ought to embrace, the pain of love for one another that we need to gain what we now lose for the children to smile again, for us all to be happy again.
For now it says we must dream on. Cry on. Move on. Together it says we would win the race and that pain would trump pain, love, love, to move us all forward in time and space to where we head that we should for it to flourish again, in us as it should a soul in a dream of love that we all share, furtive now but only for a while, as time will forever, this love reveal.
