A Quarrel With A Dreamer.

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Miles and miles of cornfields passed and my car carried,
With power, the broken-hearted through the mid-west lands,
The melted snow and ice fattened the streams beside roads,
And steadily flew as if in a hurry to reach somewhere unknown.

The heart beat in steady rhythm of some unheard song,
Questioned I the reason for the pathos heart followed,
Conscience and fate refused to answer my reality,
And I woke the dreamer and told him a joke or two.

The dreamer told me about a bow he once held,
And took arrows one by one and fired through thinning air,
None hitting anything fell all over the field in front seen,
Each one disappearing after the fall not to be found.

“Such will be the fate of life without reason and meaningless”,
He said, and left me to thoughts about the love I lost,
“what meaning should I find in my love, when the one I love,
Left for another man and the world in mock filled laughter?”.

Silence ended our quarrel and I passed more miles of fields,
The sun setting somewhere beyond the southwest horizon wept,
The twilight spilled blood one more time and into dark left,
I watched my fate of meaninglessness unfold yet another night.

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Photo by Rob Potter on Unsplash

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