12 February 2013
I used to think that as I moved through dreams I would be untouched and it would be alright
But as I lay awake my dreaming turns to thoughts to keep me company throughout the night
A collection of colours and spirograph shapes that I carefully hang by an old night light
Making patterns in the blackness until that's all there is inside my line of sight
A fusion from the day that's been mixing gently with the things that I've been told
A brand new set of headlines in massive print easy to read and easy to mould
People and places jaded faces airs and graces begin to softly unfold
Shaking and baking it's a dream I'm making as I rise above to where it's not so cold
Empty orchestras play a symphony a cacophony of sound to fill my head
I dip into my palette but it's hard to paint with every single shade of red
Words arrive then leave again, the physical imprints of a piece I've bled
And as they die upon my pillow I ask myself is it really something that I've said?
Rudely freed from all my muses it's abusive for me to see them drift away
The thought train's out of steam but I can dream a dream by the harsh light of day
My kaleidoscope has jumbled tumbled things with which I like to play
And my palette's grown, no longer red alone now there's morning battleship grey
Are they all still there do they even care that I've vanished, disappeared from their sight
Do they all remain free or do they wait for me to give them new life by the old night light
Have the thoughts truly inspired or am I just too tired to help a dream to take flight
Hope they're all still around where they're easily found because I think I'll be needing them again tonight...
Abstraction • Opuss № I