In the prison of quotidian life There is no time to dream. You are there, a part of me, Ever present, but apart. Then, for a moment -- in a crowded airplane, On a rushed bike ride to work, in a sleepless night -- The tedium recedes, and the dream comes forth. You rise, subsuming everything, shrinking reality, Until you become life And all the rest is a small part of you, apart. 3 February 2018