Theater of Dreams

Hallucinations, my dear,
Dreams will only bring you fear.
Round about the amphi here
Is mirage’s perfect year.
Same it was of Shakespeare’s Lear
Daughters by his atmosphere
And the rest veered in slumber
soaked in umber’s dreamy smear.

Lower the water and sleep,
Head above the Nile so deep,
Something for the night to keep,
A fig, a dream wind to sweep.
The pile we will wrongly heap,
Hallucinations will creep
And peep around this wild,
For exiled, we’d learn to weep.

Leonell.

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