A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Allan Poe

This blog is a mirror. Attracting an audience to the blog would be like looking in that mirror and seeing a face. I doubt if anyone will care much. I am a little mushroom man sitting somewhere too far underground. Silence covers everything down here like a shroud. This silence is the blood-curdling kind that comes out of the mouth of a blind fish. I am down here in a damp cave. The blind fish swim round and round in their tiny pool of crystal clear water while I lick poems in a dead tongue in exquisite calligraphies on the rough walls above. I am inspired by the variations in the surface of the walls. Taken as questions, they seem important. When my clever tongue can answer those questions, I feel alive and know that where I am is where I must be to do what I must. I stop feeling lost and wondering if all was always lost or if I missed a turn somewhere.
Then the question behind the questions occurs to me and makes my tongue dead; why are the wall’s questions important. Answers are only keys that will let you in or lock a badness out if the doors they open lead somewhere besides nowhere but where you started. Attracting an audience to the blog would answer the question of why the questions I’m answering are really questions.