In the Days of the Frost Seek A Minor Sun

From certain dreams it is not wise to wake.
When morning sun dispels the gathered mist,
Who knows what shapes reality may take?

And certain thirsts are dangerous to slake;
Knowledge drunk deep may take a toxic twist,
Toppling gods, and making planets quake.

Beneath the ponderous truth frail hope may break,
Facts crushing faith like crystal in a fist
To splintered shards no power can remake,

While memory may scourge the past, and rake
The present bloodless, as we yet insist
That lens be clear which mercy leaves opaque.

Then choose your way with care: one swift mistake
May summon ghosts that cannot be dismissed.
For we do not see all we overtake,

And we are all such creatures as we make,
Craven or noble, beauty marred or missed.
Who knows what shapes reality may take?
From certain dreams it is not wise to wake.

© Stormchild Blogs 2006