Orphaned Wishes
The subconscious mind exists behind thought,
where reality isn't always real.
Imbued with skills, imagination wrought:
Faith ventures beyond reason to reveal
impulses: conscious thought cannot conceal.
Curiosity ponders what could be;
while contemplating life's what-ifs and maybes.
And sleep creates an actuality,
whereas there is no cancer, no tabes,
no wars, no dying, no starving babies.
Orphaned wishes, tethered to dying dreams
can only come true: if I adopt one.
But dreams are less demanding, so it seems,
like Rumpelstiltskin's gold: straw hopes get spun
into fantasies that outshine the sun.
As sleep sets the stage: the actor in me
plays roles from court jester to Lancelot.
In dreams, I feel invulnerable and free:
slicing my way through life's Gordian knot;
I steal its awe, yet I never get caught.
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