Were it not for the open window
The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks would remain
Unnoticed dreams, forgotten in the instant
Between sleep and awakening
And lost would be the dreams
That keep reality awake between dreams
In a far greater sense–
Though useless in everyday affairs
We’d see that were it not for something
Everything would be reduced to nothing
And were it not for a single breath
The universe would most certainly fail to exist
And while ponderous, these night thoughts
Tap but lightly on the soul’s closed door–
The one gypsy lovers hiss about
As they dance around their fading campfires
Praying morning will take their darkness away
The window, an opening to something beyond
Letting in the night air
Letting out the festered horror of loneliness–
The one certain thing making gypsy lovers dance
Till their fire goes out
And the light of morning turns them back into dreams
Poetic Alchemist 
And the light of morning turns them back into dreams….