Did I dream last night?
I don't know, I don't remember my dreams.
Perhaps I dreamed of dragons?
Fire breathing, terrifying, big-huge dragon
A dragon that ate a virgin every month
And then roved around the forest
Terrifying small animals, fighting large ones
And maybe visiting his old pals up the hill
To have a nice chat and drink
Where do dragons go when they get old?
When their fire is quenched and teeth weak
When they are no more limber to catch
That mischievous running doe
Dragon's Sunshine old age home?
Perhaps they sit there all day long
Complaining about the cold and fire
Reminiscing about all the virgins they had
And how the young generation is not fair?
Perhaps it was of dolls?
Big, huge, dominating yet unalive dolls
Small, evil and crazily laughing dolls
A scepter of stilled human form
The dolls that lay in a line on the room wall
Staring at the space with their unmoving eyes
I wonder what they think, these dolls.
Or maybe it was dandelions.
Dandelions the word, not the flower.
Yes, I also dream about words (not the thing)
Da-n-de-li-on-s What a beautiful word!
What beautiful harmony, what smooth sounds
What mysterious voice of human mind
Speaks to me through these words?
What is it that I can divine from these
Mellifluous, harmonious and cogent syllables?
Da-n-de-li-on-s! Dandelions! Dandelions!
How was it that we created such a word?
That to me surpasses the beauty of the thing itself.
What lies hidden in those minds
That coined these words, to me they are
What the thing is meant to be
Not what the thing is.
A beauty that resides in our own minds
A beauty beyond compare,
A beauty unexpressed, a beauty so rare
Perhaps that is my bane,
To see the beauty of words, but never the thing itself.
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