Email Poem

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Poem
When you sleep, it’s almost as if you were 
alive, trailing down the pathways of your 
subconscious like a sluggish tourist 
without a camera. Like trying to capture 
every moment between your hands that 
hold past and present like dry sand, 
without a basket to carry the future in 
before the sea washes it away. Dreams 
likes to play hide and seek with what lies 
ahead, and you can never seem to tag the 
back of it’s shirt without waking up first. 
Your own worldwide web of thoughts and 
aspirations all tangled together for you to 
connect what’s right and what’s left. 
What’s up and what’s down. What didn’t 
happen and what should’ve happened. 
You rise up as an archangelic composer 
to a symphony that will perform when you 
start paying attention to your life’s song a 
little more. You construct skyscrapers 
larger than the afterlife with the squinting 
of your eyes, and connect earth and space 
together without a single harmonic note 
played, with the pinching of your thumb 
and finger. You can fly farther than 
sunlight decides to scatter! You can finally 
beat up that bully who gave you that black 
eye. You can jump halfway across the 
world, land on a brick of the Berlin Wall, 
and crush forever the division indifference 
can bring. You can dive without oxygen. 
Drive without a liscence. You can open up 
the doors to a mansion as a gift for your 
mom and see her smile again. But when 
you’re waking up, you can tell. It doesn’t 
matter where you are, you finally see that 
every life has an ending when living on 
this planet. You realize that science, math, 
history and poetry become blood brothers 
when your vision gets hazy, and the 
beauty in front of you starts to melt. Your 
passing is something they all can relate 
to. But why not make your dreams 
transfer into the account where reality 
rests? Even in dreams you have the choice 
to serve others or serve yourself. So when 
you wake up each morning, why not ask 
yourself where you’ll wake up next when 
reality’s dream is spent.
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