When I wake, and when I dream,
A weary heart, a moonlit beam,
Meet in silver waters gleam,
And float along the river stream.

A shooting star in darkened days,
Streaks the sky, turns my gaze,
The heavens in a moments praise
Release me from my doldrum daze.

Unchained chimes, of life they sing,
To silence my despondency,
As brazen bells in phantom swing,
Set my wounded shadow free.

For blackened skies of prolonged nights,
See to the rise of morning lights,
Dried eyes when tears had blurred their sights,
Apprise my souls potential heights.

For when I wake and in my dreams...
I thought it fake--although it seems,
I cannot dull what brightly beams,
A troubled past more time redeems.

A loon communes on the lake,
the lake is a tear drop on Mother Earth,
the ripples flow like glass being blown,
I am perched on my porch.
The loon cries once more,
I puff on my cigar,
the smoke shifts indecisively,
it moves much like the unchained around me,
free willed and wild.
I dream of being unchained.
My branches stretch out,
they yearn for the sun,
but heavy grey clouds hang on puppet strings.
Overcast and encumbered by responsibility,
they shroud the sun,
blanket it with regret and doubt.
I dream of being unchained.
I lower my branches and shout,
but no one hears,
my voice is chained.
The loon cries out,
it echoes unrestrained.