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The Dreamer (Sonnet) by Nicholas Jones

The visions that appear to me at night come when I sleep but stay when I awake; they are so real they infiltrate my sight, so vivid that their power can often make me question my existence on this earth. Last night I saw a stream of weird shapes and wondered how exactly I give birth to visions such as those my mind creates. Yet I cannot describe what I have seen and this inability to tell makes be afraid - how can I not recall the horror of my dreams? From what flaw within myself are these things made? I can provide you with no evidence or proof but please believe these visions tell the truth.

Nicholas Jones 23-Oct-02/1:36 AM
You can't beat a good sonnet. It is always sobering to think that all the great poets, from Petrarch and Shakespeare onwards, have used the same form; I cannot possibly compete, but it's fun to try.




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