The dream is disappearing before my open eyes
Matter vapor dusting the fence
Of finity
Grabbing headlines of newspapers
There will be a tomorrow
But I won't be in it.

Sweltering along trodden pathways
His remark no longer the burden
That serious child, poor soul,
I'm celebrating my way
I'm on the highway
High on the way my love
Old fools enjoy the manure
love is my wealth
That breathes in impermanence
Regret not then the effort wasted in wading through shallow waters
When an ocean of adventure stares
At Your refusal!