A poem of nonsense came to me, like parables beyond the sea. And in my mind they came to take, like mockingbirds within a lake. I looked, and once again I saw, a book, which cried like a macaw: "Read me! Read me!" It once said, although I swore this book was dead. And so I looked within myself, and found the book upon the shelf, and read aloud from this dead tree what was, but once, some poetry. And on from it the words a-flew, of mahogany, and pink, and blue - until they rested on my chest, and sang to me until their rest. Then suddenly the storm did stop - forever gone the blissful drop. Forlorn - a dark reality I fall... but was I dreaming after all?