The beam shines over my retina,
I stare straight at that point,
…it’s not a dream,
instantly the saline releases,
I swallow with an aching throat while the scenes soar in my mind.
What of he who conquered his world?
…all that’s left is…
…this…
Pity overwhelms the soul,
Dreams of kings, of vagabonds and freedom…
… and yet…
Those were just that… dreams
Fantasies…
Thoughts of the young mind… (I laugh).
There was never a king, nor a globetrotter…
The leather jacket and booths were just that.
Today, the soft soles, the short hair… the cufflinks…
That is closer to the kingship as there ever was…
For one thing, there is kin that was not there…
There are no more beams over my eyes…
No waking to the salty taste of a tear.
The world is as it should be.
And I…
well…
…well I’m as close to those dreams, as I’ll ever be…
…and will ever want to be.
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