A DREAM IS A METAGRAPH FOR FAITH

This body, like a city of rain,

of clouds, thunders a roar, & echoes pain.

This body, like a parable

Is a city of dreams‒a path to realms improbable.

This is how a wanderer finds wonder

Wandering without end, without surrender.

Everything is a muse born out of fallacy

Clouds gathering, like a field of caramels, like fantasy,

Dew-dropping like steel, heavy, cold

Like hearts, tendered in blood.

In every stride, something is learned

& each fall, new paths found

The rain, too, in its right, restless

On a path moonless but not meaningless

With each step, tales mount like scaffolding

& every turn, new perspectives unmounting.

So let the dews downward pour

For it is not a burden, but a lore

Of a world of wandering without end,

Where we must learn to blend

Though the storms for ages still rages

This city of dreams cannot be caged in ages.

For in wandering without end,

There is no end to what can be found

So, dream, O traveler!

For in wandering, there's more to find of wonder

Beauty, in boundless forms

Wonder in the endless storms