He Who Wanders

I dreamt
Of an ancient tree
Stripped bare
To its silver branches.
Harlequin leaves
Lay in clumps
At its twisted roots,
Whose frail tendrils
Reached ever outwards.

I dreamt
Of an iron sun
In a sky of cold steel.
Ashen clouds marched
In boundless, black regiments.
From far off
I heard the crack of thunder,
And the stench
Of gunpowder
Rained down
On the earth.

I dreamt
Of bitter seas
The color of cabernet.
Plastic dregs rolled
Through the churning surf
While creatures of the deep,
Drunk on the ocean,
Floated atop the wind-tossed waves.

And I dreamt
Of men and women
That laughed and danced
In the city streets,
Where the pavement shone gold
In the fluorescent light.
Music bounced
From house to house,
Whose crystal walls
Stood high above
The ageless roots.

Yes, I dreamt
And I dreamt
And I’m dreaming still.