Dreams bite…

I
Dreams bite.
The dreamer and his legends
arm at the edge of purpose.
Waking
I see the people of winter
putting off their masks
to stain the earth
red with blood
while on the outer edges of sleep
the people of sun
are carving their own children
into monuments of war.

II
When I am absolute
at once with the black earth
fire
I make my now
and power is spoken
peace
at rest and
hungry means never
or alone
I shall love again

When I am obsolete.