Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Dream Poetry

Last night I had a dream that I was in the final days of my high school tenure, and on the last day even. In the room my mind pulled up a variety of people, names, and faces that I had forgotten, old loves, clowns, and friends that I no longer know. Knowing what I know now, seeing my past made we wish that I had done things differently. Maybe I wasn’t intentional enough in my decisions, or I was victim to circumstance and ignorance? I wanted to change it. Then I became compelled, pressed to write down and remind myself that what I was feeling was illusory. There is no such thing as “the other road.” Instead our minds run wild and create for us a life that could have been, distracting from the one at our feet. Call me strange, but this is how I cope.

The Other Road

There are many roads to take
But none appeal more
None are as sweet as
The other road.
I’ve been daring
I’ve been bold on the other road.
I’ve been in love
I’ve had rather many ways my road should go.

The teacher taught me
That all roads are equal
That all roads lead to Rome
When I know well that
The road I know, I wish never was
That northern roads could yield
What eagle fancy strained to know.

What I know, this is the truth:
The other road is a reel
A projection of fantasy
A periscope above the mud.
To be in the bosom of camaraderie
That the mind so freely architects
Is a prison sweeter than any dream.

The young man that I am
Does not see the road ahead
But wish that more roads could be.
So content I must be until the old man
Loves our road, and sets us free. 

This is actually me in High School, the last day, if you can believe it.

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