The dreams, they come and they go
Realized and not.
Fantasy and fulfillment,
Mine and his.
Which are which?
Mine overlap each other.
The night time not their only province.
They wake me and hold me
Sometimes up, sometimes down.
His hands can hold both ways.
Too much importance in
The sounds replete with endings,
The beginnings done in silence.
Masks of unreality, his and mine but
No one knows but me.
All the tales have been told,
The smashing is all done.
Vibrations are all that are left
But like a tuning fork
Will they cause the other to answer?