So says the dream

From within the heartache over-spills

and cuts grooves within contentment

to make of volcanoes matchbox toys

lined up for keen inspection

for nought can equal or outmatch

the energetic free-fall force

of a woman’s tears.

But pooled within and confined

behind barriers of maturity

they call forth a brighter, hotter, sun

into the deep interior

where it shrivels heart to matchstick parts

before the moon is nigh.

And sadly earth’s the counterpart

of all the matchstick men/women

weeping, keeping, negativity

as fuel for the fire

of earth’s will to die.

So says the dream that never reveals

how to be joyful in sorrow!