Nights of the Day
Nighty dreams amid the hours of the day,
stories controlled by cerebral reins,
not sent adrift on the high seas
as dreams do during a night’s sleep,
sometimes never reaching the port,
but like a ship’s manifest drawn up by
a wise seaman who has an accurate
mental compass inside his mind,
or a poet who consults his dreamy mind
and sends the port up into the clouds
and gives the ship wings
to float along with them,
taking the real and romanticizing it,
sending it into a dream that inspires and
sends you into the clouds with the ship,
nightly dreams inside his head
working during the daylight hours,
taking him to his imaginary port,
but maybe none at all,
maybe casting him adrift for evermore,
or maybe giving the port arms to
pull the ship to the dock and a
welcoming voice to wish him good luck,
stories in dreams, romanticizing the real,
giving it a new name,
coloring it with pastel colors,
rebelling against the prosaic,
freeing up the inhibitions,
and releasing them into the wild,
the truth adorned and given wings
while the truth be known and in the grasp
