These dreams do demand rhyme,

And this seems to expand time.

We squeeze teams by the hand, I’m

Going to walk out onto the page,

And bare my soul to the stage,

Which screams of the man’s climb.

Upwards, inwards, outwards, other,

We may just have time to become brothers,

And sisters, if you miss, it’s theirs,

To keep; like a fragment of the soul,

Which dares to reap what it sows,

Because it knows the whole hole,

Compares with what is deep.

I light up a silent spark,

With a ‘calling all out’ to the dark,

Which goes right up the violent bark

Of the tree from the roots of that initial.

But the edge of that mosaic cliff,

Which has me reading, and Re-Reading ‘If’,

And somehow putting it all out on a riff,

Which even at its best,

Only lifts up to its will.