Prospero’s Premise

We are made of the stuff of Dream

Or so the Poet of Stratford said

And Real is not what it would seem

Sounds and visions echo and team

Though I am deep asleep in bed

For we are made of the stuff of Dream

The other sights I think I’ve seen

Were happening inside my head

Real is not what it would seem

Our fantasies form an endless stream

Of desire along with dread

We are made of the stuff of Dream

Whether following them or fleeing

Our time will soon be sped

Unless Real is not what it would seem

Perhaps we wake when we are dead

And then begin to live instead

If we are made of the stuff of Dream

And Real is not what it would seem