Wednesday, August 19, 2009


Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,
A boundary between the things misnamed
Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off waking toils,
They do divide our being; they become
A portion of ourselves as of our time,
And look like heralds of eternity;
They pass like spirits of the past -they speak
Like sibyls of the future; they have power -
The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;
They make us what we were not -what they will,
And shake us with the vision that's gone by,
The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so?
Is not the past all shadow? -What are they?
Creations of the mind?
-The mind can make

Substances, and people planets of its own
With beings brighter than have been, and give
A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.


Cathy said...

Greetings, Gypsy. If I didn't know better I'd say that looked like artist's rendition of 2 galaxies merging (they never "clash" they just coalesce isn't that cool?)Thanks for the wonderful visits to my place, I always take note of your arrival.


hello again cathy - well, you're right about the merging thing - isn't this image beautiful? it seemed to suit the verse speaking of boudaries in life and death and the merging of it all in dreams - loved the quote, too - thanks so much for always leaving a note when you come by - have a great day -