Another night, another dream, waking up
Remains the hardest thing, remembering
The embraces felt by ghosts, of the past
Crushing memories, fading times awake,
Joyful and with insatiate affections
For the breathing earth, mortified by
The sordid longings of the present,
And mixed slowly with hindrances
Found in slowly discovering the
Sun’s beaming substance becoming spirit,
Creasing reality like felt to a pauper’s order
For a dying king, all alone in his room
Where his soul is left to commune
With its self alone, seen in lucid
Reminiscence of a dying dream.
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