Everything fits into place
with a satisfying,
audible “click”.
One piece,
then another,
and then another.
Living long enough
to see what we’ve built
doesn’t seem assured,
doesn’t seem important.
When a slave dies,
just replace him
with a stronger slave.
I’m building a dream;
and in that dream,
are living people,
and dead people,
and people
who I have never met.
I’m not sure they exist,
although,
they seem real.
Not like ghosts,
or figments
of my imagination
at all.
I wonder idly,
if my dead friends,
see me in their dreams
and wonder the same?
Maybe in their state
of parallel existence,
I am dead,
and this is their dream?
Thoughts to chase around the lamp post.
Never getting anywhere.
The dream must wake.
The living must die,
and all the word
must continue.
Another day;
rise and conquer,
then return to dust.
Feign purpose,
until the moment comes.
When the piece fits,
and you hear
that satisfying,
audible “click”.
and you know we have done it.
You have made the dream
reality.
HG – 2019
