You came to me in a dream,
O Specter of Sensibility,
to help discern the distant
drowning dirges of dying doubt

We walked—our party’s steps
quite quicker than our own.
As the gap grew greater,
they disappeared into the night.

All alone along an amphitheater’s path,
my ghostly guardian gave life
to the story I had wished to hear.
Clarity obtained—each player was one of us.

Eyes straight ahead, she didn’t break stride.
The waves of her voice took charge,
powering the reels that play,
saying, “So, you slept to know?

“I’m here for you and you alone
so you could see me in reality.”
A proper lady she was,
so small talk preceded needs.

She went on to tell of how,
“patience at present is prudent.”
“And purposefully perplexing,” I thought,
listening in reverie.

“Just as I return oft in your dreams,
so too will what I embody come back.”
She was cold so my arms became alms.
We sat in acceptance until the crowd caved in around.