Asleep, I dreamed of basements empty,
where once my granddads and grandmoms
had put their workshops and their laundries.

In play and work they there engaged in,
but since moved on rather than tarry,
to give us space in which to build on.



That I’m awake I must infer.
The fixedness is guarantee.
For, if this were a lucid dreaming,
I’d choose to levitate completely.
And beautiful landscapes fly over,
and dive down deep into the sea.



Some physicists say our sun’s blessing
is sending us low entropy.
We turn the favor, re-emitting
much higher measures of disorder.
And when all’s gone, we’ll rebegin
a zero-reset cosmic journey.



Those times in which our powers flicker,
like candles fading in the darkness,
we are required to find renewal,
and realign our steadfast questing.
Each time these storms of soul occur,
it tests our powers of duress.



Of varied feelings in our lives,
we hope for pains to come less often,
preferring pleasures in their stead.
But like our blood, charged by our breathing,
emotion flow comes without bias,
and our aliveness helps sustain.