Life’s a facade,
Crammed comprehensively with faces;
Vibrantly stroked charade,
Of nonsensical graces.
Dreams are clearer,
Fantastically textured residue,
Of the looking mirror;
And in the soul reigns most true.
Speak in mine ear,
Not of erratic, conclusioned-truth,
Rather of the fear,
That dreams must be lost in dead-youth.
Dreams lie transposed,
Sedulously entrancing my core,
Vulgarly exposed,
But reverently sought even more!
K. Aldaya, 4/16/05
Picture: “Lost in the Crowd” by ShisSharon on Flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/28291679@N06/3954821896/
My Soul is a Lock Without a Key 