One night I slip and fall inside a dream:
Here people sigh, they groan, they shake the trees,
but branches never swing and nothing falls.
Until at last I hear a throbbing scream,
then stars begin to drop like fruits. The breeze
dissolves, the blood congeals, and roar the squalls.
And then I notice how the senseless lights
are rolling into seas, with grace and ease,
but stay afloat, illuming sleeping dolls
that dream this dream their lonely endless nights—
morn' calls!
