’twas but a fancy, just a dream,
a waste of time to muse about,
but a dream so real and fair it seemed
that long it caused me needless pain,
for dark, my world would be without
your touch, your smile, your love, I deemed.
a dream that brought but hurt and doubt,
and clouds from which my self caused rain.
ever and over, I called your name,
and once I dreamed you called to me,
and dark and bitter I became
when I learned my fancy empty, frail.
this dream was never meant to be.
hast brought me naught but cold-hearted shame,
for knowing ’twas only you I’d see,
I’d written the chapter and neglected the tale.
’twas but a word ‘mong many lines
I’d chosen to caress with blinding red,
I’d traded but pennies for my dimes,
and bought roses with disillusioning scent,
but roses with thorns make no soft bed,
and cloak of laughter deceivingly shines;
’tis ne’er like passionate poets said.
their words caused my heart to be twisted and bent.
white lace e’er slowly unraveling
hems the dream in which I dress.
the end of the song I’ve dared to sing
marks a change of longing and blue love,
for the dream will come to become me less,
though I seek in vain to end its fraying,
but finally, to anger, I confess.
no love in me left, save that from above.
and that from above says to not give up hope,
but maintains that I must hope elsewhere.
nay, not in the rack, nor in the rope,
for that was all the old dream’d e’er led.
a new dream I seek, true and fair,
bathed in Light, and endurance to cope,
for there comes a dragon from its lair,
furious that I refused to see it fed.
’twas Light of Sweet Jesu telling me
I’d dreamed my dream too hard, too long,
bled into my sight so I could not see;
‘twould have left me to rot in rosy despair.
so come to me, one from ‘midst the throng,
find me the way Our Lord meant it to be.
help me to find notes for a new song
full of honest gold, and Love true and fair.
Filed under: by Aisa Patag
