I had a vision,
That felt like more than a shadow,
I’m sure it had dimensions,
Larger than what it came to be.
Once we made cement,
And sat the poor thing within the wet rubble,
Sat back and stared in sycophancy,
For a dream that felt so real for you and me,
Turning on the pavement,
Even as the cement turned to stone,
Turning like a drug addict,
Possessed by this one.
And when the moment came to grasp,
And pull at the then immovable thing,
We slipped upon the weight of permanacy,
The sorry thing that is reality,
And fell into a chasm,
Of plundered dreams,
Calling wildly and in vein,
For someone to help us out.