Blind Senses to a Dream

To my eyes, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,
Not wanting to forget this wonderful onset of a dream.
Searching to find out truth, and to know what it would mean,
I play out these moments in a not-so re-created scene.

Tender minutes caught mostly in fictional thought,
Answers to questions led only in distraught.
Surely to get a clue, but come to naught.
Frustration and fixation built soley in wrought.

Blank images pondered as I tried to remember,
The dream I had in this dreary, cold November.
Just like a fireplace extinguished, left without an ember,
Or a vast forest destroyed, devoid of it’s timber.

What would have happened? As I try to assume,
These ubiquitous sensations that come once in a blue moon.
To have them arrive, and yet they escaped me so soon.
To challenge so falsely, to be so impugn.

Could it be the memory was blocked to leave me no time,
And if it indeed was, it occured way out of line.
I saw it, felt it, and heard it, so intended to be mine.
And now my senses have left me to be deaf, dumb, and blind.

=== Jeremy Robert Edwards ©2010==

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