D e a t h d r e a m e r s {Transitus Supre}
Amorphously trancic eyes of an old man, dying
Effete lids close to a dripping state of morphine
Dreams of love, war and the twenty-seven Yankees
Intangibles never traded for souls or extra innings
Immortality, a Dream for they who fear not Death
And its pathway that invades the deepest sleep
But No! Not for the true Dreamer's, for only they
See Death's nascence as a mere passing cloud
To Dream is to experience life without conscience
Where quandaries are resolved or abort upon waking
There are no sandlines drawn, that morning can't erase
'Tis why the True Dreamer shall never dream their Death
Yet should they die in Dream, they know they will wake come morning
And, should they die in Sleep....their ultimate Dream breathes forever
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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