Thursday, October 18, 2018

Words Try to Explain What They Can’t Contain

We don’t know what dreams are.
We know they limit us.
Books, which sanctify us,
Are mostly blank in dreams.

After dreams are over,
And you wake back to us,
We help you build a web
Around the memories.

We weave with our bodies,
End to end, end to end,
But we’re porous, and dreams
Pour liquid through our mesh.

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