By Martin Falatic
Written 2002-01-01
Revised 2002-01-01

I awoke, long past dawn, to the silence of my thoughts…
Turbulent were the dreams that bore me along on shoulders of stifled warmth
on this First Day of another nameless century

Falling from dream to dream like stepping stones underfoot,
each held in place more by wishes than by truth
Peering over the railing that provides a sense of security
Fear of falling held in check, then unleashed,
when the railing fades to mist whilst we lean against it.

A momentary imbalance, pebbles skittering over the edge as we scramble backwards,
breathless, hearts pounding, minds screaming…

Glimpses of the dream-time remain, questions begged but unanswered…
What is it to endure in these times, to prevail over one’s fears,
to struggle and succeed, only to watch as the foundations evaporate beneath us?

What anarchy of the soul must govern this space of the heart?
What tyranny of reason replaces love and trust?

I ponder this, as the dream fades away…