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Thus they were standing on the shore – a man and his eternal companion.
A djinni named Conscience.
The White Dream
A day will come – my hair will all be white.
Like snow.
Like zinc.
Or like a snowy owl.
Like paper leaf when words are not yet written.
The whiteness of my head will make me wise.
Some day the wrinkles will furrow all my face,
As ploughman’s laying furrow after furrow
With his sharp plough,
While toiling in his field.
I shall be beautiful – white-haired and wrinkled.
A day will come – an old man I shall be.
I shall be stooped
And bald,
I’ll be decrepit.
And I shall call this time to be the best
Of all the times of my chaotic lifetime.
And some day in the future, when I die,
Thus ending my rebellious existence –
I shall recall this verse –
And I shall laugh.
So be it, we all have
Our dreams...
And nothing else matters...
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