Each night
	I can lie
	In my darkened room,
	Pretending
	It's a womb,
	From which
	Next morn
	I could emerge
	Into a different world.
	But as the sun arises,
	My door opens
	To no surprises,
	Nothing new,
	Just the same
	Old world
	I still must
	Struggle through.
	There is no
	Simple, clever warp
	Through Infinity;
	No gentle,
	Quiet Serenity
	In this Life
	We all must live.
	We are born
	But once
	(And once
	Is quite enough!)
	And for our
	Appointed measure
	Must live,
	At Life's leisure,
	All those
	Ill-begotten
	Nights and days
	We dream of living
	Other ways.

1/1/81 Rocky Mount, VA

© Fred O'Bryant. All rights reserved.

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