Dream
It
is for sometimes now that I dream a strange dream, that when I wake up
it seems to me that I have strayed into a dream instead; my dream felt
more real. For I feel tenderness, a passion that is unlikely to happen
in my waking hours, and I see a future long lost.
When
I wake up, I lie on my back and taste the fading remains of that
feeling, And despair, sorrow and a strange longing for the unknown
breaks my heart.
The rest of my day is ruined.
All those long hours I stare into the
void, trying to see behind the veils of eternity, amazed why I feel
lost and forlorn, longing to escape from these high walls around me,
wondering whether this is reality or dream.
Day
comes to its end, I close my eyes with a heavy heart, telling my mind
it has no right to torture me like this. But in the depth of my soul I
wish to see that dream once again, to feel that passion once more.
And I stray into the reality of my being . . .
*this is one of my previous posts. . . but snice it occured again . . . well!
پیام از هستی
در دی ۲۵, ۱۳۸۶ ۱۰:۴۰ ق.ظ
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