Hazy dreamers

Sleep walking
both through days and nights
rambling on in hazy gray dreams,
waiting to live
waiting for life to happen.
This bumper car existence,
these merry-go-round days–
as T.S. Eliot wisely asked:
“Where is the Life we have lost in living?”.

I shall tell you:
it’s lost to the dark canyons,
tossed to the city lights,
behind closed eyelids
and among empty pillow spaces.
Left in dusty libraries,
forgotten in dank alleyways,
fallen between messy pages
and between dirty fingertips.

And when you realize it’s gone,
it’s gone.
Floated to heaven or hell
and always beyond your grasp,
like dandelions blown into the invisible wind,
like secrets leaked from unknowing lips,
like sweet new kisses that linger on.

Keep on, hazy dreamers,
just waiting to live.

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