The Minister of Dreams
The future lies enwombed in dreams, as wheat
in seed. Indeed it dreams there like the child
who sleeps beneath its mother's heart, beguiled
by darkness and engulfed within her heat.
Just so, the future waits the midwife's hand,
the hand of one who has the wit to draw
it forth to light and hold it, dumb with awe,
that it may speak. For dreams I understand.
Since childhood I have dwelt among my dreams,
a shadow-dweller like the forest folk,
who only by such rays of light as broke
between the leaves could see at all. What seems
to be is truer than what is, and so
what is not yet is given me to know.
