A Wanderer's Tale

I dreamt a dream, the realist dream
the dream of ages yet to be
and all began on some great land
who's residents were none but trees.
at first I feared they'd feel it queer
a wanderer as small as me
but not a glance, they stood in trance
was even cast aside to see.

hello? I cried, then louder, tried
and waited for my echo's end
while answered by no distant cry
but hums of melancholy winds.
so north, I strode yet trodden roads
'til Joints and bones were coming loose
I traveled long years, and stumbled on
and all to fall upon a spruce.

Why does this silence linger here
that aches my soul and wears my wit?
he chanted in the deepest tongue
a word that I shall never forget:
"this is the land that's starved for love
we lost it some where long ago,
and should you find it, share the love
or fade away like the passing snow

how can this be? I spoke in tears
how could all empathy be lost
there must be someone here who knows
the price that love's return should cost?
"there may be one," he mumbled on
"the wisest maple of the south
but long the Journey, here to there
through summer's hands to winter's mouth."

I must thought I, farewell old friend
and fresh of hope, I took the trail
In fear so great, it was too late
I, onward, built a wanderer's tale.
I tread a day, and then a week,
and weeks to seasons, they to years
and years to more, a decade's time
reality to dreamer's tears.

but yes! came forth the final day
when, in the clearing, saw these eyes
a tree of such great width and power
his mighty arms raised towards the skies.
excuse me sage, but I have spent
my life seeking an answer here
what must I do to purchase love?
whereabouts to draw it near?

"a foolish deed," he raised a laugh
"you've all the love you really need
Just look at me! this glory, great
began when I was but a seed.
I took the love that other's gave
and grew into the strongest tree
so keep and take and you shall make
the loveliest of everything."

I couldn't help but notice how
he didn't bear a single leaf
and pride, the drink which he relied
had left his countenance quite weak.
while something in his booming voice
took pride in apathetic theft
behind the wall of his facade
the truth is, he had nothing left.

I woke. and, oh! the wild relief
that every thing was all a dream
and what a vile and horrid thing
as lifeless as their world had seemed.
and so, to shake away my thoughts
I took a walk along the street
then awe-struck by the silent cry
of every passer's eye, I'd meet.

"this is the land that's starved for love
we lost it some how long ago
and should you find it, share the love
or be the hope we'll never know."
and so the dream, that scary dream
I, oh so painfully recall
was all the less a wanderer's tale
and not a dream at all.