The drift is slow, quiet, not unpleasant, soft like a cloud, swift like a dream.
What to hold onto, what to care about?
Those who care about you, of course,
Those who don't, of course,
One is made of memories the other of nightmares
They are not important to long, slow days adrift.
Memories are wonderful long gone days full of laughter, love and work.
Nightmares are of a time since they have no end only dull accustom.
Fear there is, fresh and growing
Fear of falling and not rising,
Fear of sleeping and not waking.
Fear of animals bewildered, afraid, crying.
Fear can't go it can only grow until one day it is real
The Drifting Triumph of Dread
What to hold onto, what to care about?
Those who care about you, of course,
Those who don't, of course,
One is made of memories the other of nightmares
They are not important to long, slow days adrift.
Memories are wonderful long gone days full of laughter, love and work.
Nightmares are of a time since they have no end only dull accustom.
Fear there is, fresh and growing
Fear of falling and not rising,
Fear of sleeping and not waking.
Fear of animals bewildered, afraid, crying.
Fear can't go it can only grow until one day it is real
The Drifting Triumph of Dread
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