Last night I dreamt that we were at a feast
At separate tables. You would not look at me
When I turned to catch your gaze, and so I feigned
Great interest in those near me, laughed with them:
But when I looked back to you, you were gone.
It seems we must not meet by light of day,
Or light of dream, or in this world at all
Where we might talk, sit silently, touch hands:
So I descend now to your deeper dreams
To some dark level, far down from the day,
Down where the archetypes are playing out,
Down where we engage, free from the Rule.
There you will know me well for who I am,
Know who we've always been, and must become.
