lonely pilgrim dreams

the lonely pilgrim fell asleep on his pillow of dreams,
as muse sang songs that floated on air.
he struggled to wake from his trance like state,
as he found himself deep in the quagmire of disarray,
wondering how he had found himself wandering
in green valleys, and who had led him there.

he wondered, too, if dreams are real, and what he
would see at morning's light.

muse sang on, into the night, singing all good things
into his heart, breathing love into his pillow, playing for
light, playing the tune of her heart strings that night.

she was not sure what song she sang, but
wanted to sing, and sing some more.


--bruised orange