Dream Receiver I receive your messages, in my dreams. Or is that me, talking to myself? Like a storm, the logic, squalls and teems. And everything seems to make sense. As I surface from slumber, panicked and wet, The lap of ideas is real. The shore’s out of focus, my mind’s in a fit, My pride is in uneven keel. I’m swimming to safety, I think just that. As the undertow coaxes I stay. I just need to see from the viewpoint of land, Where everything washes away. It's useless to argue, but I do just that. As I labour and wade through the wake. Expert rebuffing, falls rather pat And I argue for argument’s sake. I’d shouted your name, like a whale to a mate. But I cannot remember the sound. I know you exist as a marriage of fate; And who is the fox, who the hound? Yet messages follow, like dogs coming home. Like children, they pull at my sheets. And soon the ideas will seem like my own; Slipped in alongside me in sleep. © Sean G. O'Leary 2019
