He Who Wanders

I dreamt of seas
That sparkled in sun
With a salted breeze soft
On my cheek. The waves
Whispered in foreign tongues,
And beckoned me on
And on. But in day,
The ocean trembled
As a tempest tossed the surf.
My boat bent, and my sails
Snapped while the current
Enforced its will.
Adrift, alone,

I dreamt of spring
In a valley glazed
With green. Sparrows sang
In the shade of trees
Whose blossomed boughs stretched
Through the centuries.
But when I settled
On promised land,
The earth was cold and dead.
The wind howled
Like a starved
Stomach borne through a boundless
Void. No buds broke.
No flowers bloomed. My dreams
Had lied again. But still

I dreamt. I could do nothing
More. Or else wander wayless
Through horrid planes
Without cause
Or hope.