eternal recurrence

in the dream my books are stolen the thief
a poor woman whom i do not know but who speaks
of anguish and pain and then calls for relief
i know there's more than money that she seeks
it is a dream i realise when i'm lost when delay
keeps me from obligation miles away from task
i squint and look out at all the colours of the day
the arrival of the right bus is all that i can ask
now the scene changes and i'm in the lecture hall
the students all look eager but it seems quite real
my mind is suddenly as blank as the wall
and suddenly i'm not sure what it is i feel
the clock goes off waking me this ends the early show
i'm back to concrete meaning to things i really know

after the last minstrel

beyond this point no one has gone awake
in sleep we find both monsters and powers
we're at the marge of some enchanted lake
beyond a castle with high bone-white towers
i don't know what this tale or who the writer
i know i've read it somewhere in my youth
but now i cannot see myself as the fighter
doughty and strong and eager for the truth
if it is nothing but another long sad tale
why bother read it or pass it further on
who wants to hear another long sad wail
when the dark powers are at last truly gone
we stop and think and then rewind the tape
past the point where we would bow and scrape