“In dreams I ply a boat”

In my waking life I am not that much,
Just one man, no more or less than
The rest, wearing pants and driving
A car and working a job. I pay
My bills and love my son and
Sometimes I have a little fun.
But not overmuch. At night I lay
My tired head on my pillow,
Sometimes satisfied, sometimes not.
But always tired. I close
My eyes, and sometimes,

I dream.

In dreams I ply a boat of cedar,
Not a large boat, but sound and fit for
Exploring. I find myself floating
On a river that extends and overflows
Its banks, arching beyond the peaks
Of mountains, into the night sky;
And my little craft floats, stately and
Serene, drawn upwards towards the moon.
Its water rises, falls, splashes
Over all the heavens,
The water filling them with blue,
Until my craft reaches the other side
Of the sky and mounts the glittering
Dark, and the river’s churning spray
Fills the Milky Way with stars,

And on its far bank, shrouded in mist,
Lies what is Beyond. I know not
What is there, exactly, only that I am drawn
There, subtly and despite the current,
Drawn by something important.
And the iridescent mists then part
Like a curtain as I approach
And I am trembling with anticipation
Of looking at last upon what I have longed
To see, the Life of all
That is good and beautiful,

But then I wake up and I am once again

Just me, lying in the dark.

I do not know what lies Beyond,
Who I shall meet there, or what,
But I know more certainly anything
That it is well worth the trip,
And that ere I die I shall once more
Sail my ship of dreams
To the other side of the sky.

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