How many dreams

had I dremt?

How passionately chiseled

I’d my future?

How oft, my dear Dream Angel

I’d made love to you.

A planet you were to me

and

in your orbit I was.

I drank you in a draught

not knowing a ‘delicious poison’ you’re.

‘What robe would I wear

when my time comes’ I said to myself then.

 A King’s or a Captain’s or Minister’s.

To which country

would I get crowned?

Would the moon be my girl in whose lap

I would sleep or sink.

Bits and pieces you were in my horizon then.

 Piecing you together, my Dream Angel,

An exquisite statue I sculpted you.

Bathed you with waters of love

and

dressed you up with clothes of desire.

All these I did

when the crown of youth was on

my head.

Where had you gone now, my Dream Angel?

A tunnel of life I’m in now

Having walked out on my youth.

I grope for you there wistfully.

For, following me is the demon of death

who carts me to a grave.

My cane aka my third - leg

is the only reality I still hold on?

It walks me now

and

I stagger behind it, looking out for you

all through my way.

Are you dead, my Dream Angel?

like my wasted youth,

like my empty life.

RIP, my Dream Angel!

Peace be with you.

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