slips away, it seems.
Revisited now, only in dreams.
Scenes on a cutting room floor
of days gone by before.
is a moment in a card,
in a chart, wisdom from a psychic
Scenes in pictures, in symbols deep
found in rivers of drowning sleep.
is where we dwell
to make a heaven out of a present hell
where yesterday was a game we played
without today’s wisdom, and tomorrow plans
our grain of Truth and Love
falls through the glass