So says the dream
From within the heartache overspills
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!
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