there was once a dream..

and it is no more. and new dreams shall take its stead. but when one dream goes away, never to return, what does really die? this dirt, this earth is the same as the one there. just dustier and more cripled. now we are free. and we shall meet again. but not yet. there is tobacco in my weins and red wine. and there are thoughts. and whispers. to the ear of the world. a friend who nurtures a flute, and distant piano. by the end of this night, the last boat had sailed. and the last fire had been lit. and in that second of darkness the smoke will write one more story for the night sky. rest my friend. put some more rocks by the fire, light a pipe, tend to the horses and wait for sunrise.