A Dream Inside a Dream

Place this farewell gently upon my forehead,

soft as a promise you’re too afraid to speak aloud.

Tell me I’m not wrong to wonder, to question

are these days made of nothing but mist and vapor,

memories drifting by, wrapped inside layers of sleep?

If hope drifts off quietly in an hour,

or dissolves in a year we can’t seem to recall,

is it any less gone, any softer in its leaving?

Does the ache weigh any less

just because it slips away without sound?

All we touch, all we chase, all we believe we hold

is it not just a dream suspended inside another dream?

I stand alone on this endless, restless shore,

the waves gnawing at my tired, salt-bitten feet,

the cold brine curling like whispers around my ankles.

In my open palm, I try to gather the golden flecks

of everything I’ve ever loved bright grains of hope

but each one escapes, trickling down and away,

sinking to be swallowed by the waiting tide below.

I squeeze my hand tighter and tighter

but nothing, nothing stays.

Is there no way to rescue even one shining piece

from the open mouth of this hungry ocean?

All we hold, all we seem, all we dare to dream

just a dream drifting deeper inside another dream.