I dream of the world
Of which I am a part
I am apart from the world
Of which I dream in my heart
And in my head have whirled
Such ideas as to make one start
But before they are unfurled
They dissipate and thus hide their art
And if into rhyme the form will not be curled
Then how can it be said so it will sound smart?
So into that form it must be hurled
Like an arrow to its target, like a dart
And when it then shall have missed its mark
I’ll have had my say
It will have been a lark
That flew away
I am a dream of the world
That is a part of me
And when it comes apart
The heart will die in me
For a world within my heart
Is dreaming of the world
And will not let it be
8 March 2001
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