The Conceit of Poetry
What is a dream
if not reality's conceit?
What is reality
if not a shadowy deceit?
The dream circle was unsealed
when we were born
and dream-time filled our lives
from night to early morn.
The circle grew ever wider
in our youthful days of yore
with unbounded dreams of glory
on some far distant shore.
But then the circle tightens
when our days near to a close.
Dreams replace ambitions
as one's mortal body slows.
So our dreams in poems we'll write
hence when we disappear,
we'll leave our mark in some small way
to show that we were here.
And in some far off time we hope
someone will read our verse
and a dream that was a part of us
will shake the universe.
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