I dreamt of an angry red sky,
Furious, red, surrounding.
I dreamt my hair would grow,
Until it did form, foam, brine and sea.
Far as the eye could see.

I dreamt that my tomorrow came,
And went without a sound.
And feared I would miss it all,
Just like once before.

I dreamt I was a poet, a minstrel; or a sailor,
To be someone else, I hoped; rather than myself.
Yet woke to find alive, I, myself and mine.
A little hope to hold onto, a little me inside.

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Back to work!