How strange when an illusion dies
It's as though you've lost a child
Whom you've cherished and protected
Against the wilds of the storms and hurts
In this frightening world.
Your child is dead.
An hysterical frenzy possesses you
Your precious, virtuous dream has been taken,
Torn from your defensive, guarding breast.
Next a morose loneliness descends
You're a pitiful stumbling creature
Lost in the woods of despair.
Suddenly you see a light.
You straighten, and walk with steady footsteps into the sun
Time has done her work.
Your dream is gone - yes -
And you light a candle in your heart
In a rememberance of something never to be recovered,
But deep in your soul, in its embryonic state,
another illusion is maturing
Waiting to grow strong and radiant
Only to be crushed and join the other.
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