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Buried beneath my pillow surreal
Here I lay in complacent calm, lost in analysis.
Thawed is the memory of hibernation within
The realm of my ignorance. Here I would weep
If it were not for the ignorance in bliss I keep
Buried beneath my pillow surreal.
Awaiting the trip I seek to know
More than reality would have me know
Perhaps she will reveal to me in dreams
Just what it is the visions means.
poem
by
David Lacey
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