Am I the weirdo here?
I reminisce of things I never knew
is that experience common
or something only I do?
If I'm the oddball how is it
I can so stark-sharply recall
times I never lived in and
places I've never been at all?
to storied lands I traveled
through the ancient mariners' door
on meandering slow train to
unknown known days of yore
my vehicle being dreams
mysterious yet not mystery
it's then I see most clearly
olden era and locality
but what I view bright shiny
what's shown in eye of night
becomes confusedly shrouded
in dawn's early morning light
as wave on sand recedes my
waking ken slowly ebbs away
like fog my clarity fades to
tattered fragments of grey
why unfamiliar days and ways
and foreign geography
seem so familiar I know not
am I a freak or visionary?
curious and curiouser are they
nightmare, shade or prophecy?
something or nothing at all
perhaps fathoms deep memory?
I don't always know my dreams
have happened in history
collective conscience recalling
or some omen or augury?
It's also not been revealed
if for better or for worse
I'm just night tripper or on
my funeral carriage hearse?
there are less pleasant ways to die
it's not worst way to go
a hobo on Dreamland Railroad
swinging chariot sweet and low
one thing I know for sure
as I ride the midnight train
That to those far-off shores
I'll return and return again
Thanks for reading. With love from the weirdo world wanderer
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