What Dreams Are Dead?
What Rest Forgone?
For This Circle Of Sleep, I Don’t Belong.
In This Constant Time, In Which Life Divides,
I Waste Away My Prime With A Poem In Mind,
A Poem In Heart.
From The End To Start I Hear –
 The Splashing Of Dreams.
I See The Waves Apart.
In Cold Waters I Sail. Before I Start I Fail.
For My Coarse Of Sleep’s An Unforseable Trail,
A Wakeful Denial, Unjustifiable Trial.
Undistinguishable Vile For Unmeasurable Miles.
I Bide My Time As Before 
And Gaze Upon This Lake’s Shore.
My Sleepy Home’s On The Breeze 
Where I’ve Purchased The Key,
Although I’ve Yet To Find Where Hides The Door.