What do you do with a melancholy dream? In the moment, you cherish it, hold it tightly, savor the peace and love as they settle into your heart.
In sleep's wake, seeing its fancy, you bury the dream in your soul. Label it "impossible or improbable," never to mature.
But what do you do with the leftovers? The joy? The encompassing, foundationless love and peace which break across your being like liniment, stinging the emptiness and wounds where it does not fit?
What to do with a melancholy dream?
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