The Dream

I visit you at night, despite,
The distance our bodies disunite,
I can clearly envisage your face,
Whilst I engage in acts of much disgrace.

A dream, a reflection of mind's altered state,
The thoughts and feelings encircle and berate,
I travel to a place of discontent,
A temptress I become I now relent.

But what does this dream really mean,
And is it to cause me pain I have seen,
Or is it simply the projection of anxious thoughts,
And in this way it's a mish mash of sorts.

Yet I awake feeling the guilt of such misconduct,
And I question the accuracy of ill-fate or of luck,
For dreams extend to a realm of inner conscience,
And become entrenched in my waking inhabitance.

Such vivid and alive images do prevail,
Awoken by African women who sing to hail,
I re-enter the state of another plane,
Regardless of my conscious emotional disdain.

Two men I surround Aphrodite she calls,
A barrier erects and I collide with the wall,
My choice and unreluctant acquiesce,
Abates my character such power unbalanced.

In disgust today I willingly search,
To seek redemption whereby I may,
And if this fails I will now perch,
My dream instructs a new seed to sow.

The Brighton to London Poet

© 2006 MCARB