Sometimes I wake in a dream hoping that this world becomes real.
With every extension of the hand I grasp but I cannot feel.
It’s like casting a line and nothing comes up when you reel.
Riding on the steed of adventure in this paradox.
Constellations above glare in witness to the showdown between tiger and ox.
The cemented sun dial’s shadow constitutes the absence of time.
Everything in this box from summits high to canyon’s deep is mine.
But what I search for I cannot find.
Cursed must be this sight for I must be blind.
The mind empty graves as old schemes resurrect.
Weary is ambition as this soul digests regret over failed prospect.
What good are words when there’s no one else to share dialect?
In creation imagination chose one thing to neglect.
Absent be the one who this heart holds so dear.
Without you this world is evidently barren and bare.

Mc Bain Sammy