“In the Book of Dreams Told"
... too spent to reach again for the artist’s ring the merry go round slows wobbles you lay your head on the wooden horse’s mane pat its flank wipe your face slide off the artificial mount the ride not what you planned or hoped or dreamed it took its own way going nowhere you spun the ride was circumscribed and you changed nothing but your clothes and went on thinking you had something to do with where you were going born at the bottom of winter wanting to do what you loved to do then wanting to do for the sake of love and thought you could join the two but it has always been about love about wanting to be a star when really you were a song echoing some far off singing of brilliant burning spheres....The story began like this and went on as intended. You never knew what you were and are. Now it is time to learn. Start here.
on the windowsill