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My compass lies

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An artist (Pfiefer)
   A face (no name, yet)
A warm glow, deep, something I had,
    quite honestly, forgotten.
This means nothing, now,
       it may later.
  That warm is back
    but it is real (real)
      or only because I'm leaning
All a dream? a few short
  moments, (of agonizing . . .)
   shall surely let me know.
Sorry, I "took another trip
      down memory (lane)"
It should not be expectation,
   but instead reflection.
   No sense, then ask . . .

Now I honestly write by candle light
  while sounds of far off clocks
  and water fill my ears.
"I need to say something," says the enemy
"You're controlled by tissue," says the ally
   but in the end, my compass lies.

© 1988 john r. chase

simply some thoughts i expressed on paper after having a very vivid dream.