I went up a mountain with my burden
and saw the weather moving
over the surrounding hills,
vast banks of clouds,
to east north west and south.
Then a seismic shift in perception
and the ground shook beneath me.
I stood on a rock that was not there,
my feet were restless on the boiling earth,
and I dared not sleep.
When I awoke my head was spinning,
concepts tumbled like the ageing mountains,
the fairies were silent and wilted
besides the now dry fountains,
the weight of disallusionment,
my burden, a poor shelter,
in this barren landscape.
So I dreamt a better dream,
lay on my back and looked at the stars,
at the flowing currents in the sky.
There is now a river,
water cool and fresh,
my vision clears and I see.
