When the Haunting Phantom of ” might have been ”
Looms sovereign o’re your soul,
And has stolen your life with promises,
Under which you yielded control;
And your dreams were soft chains of delight,
In which you were willingly bound;
And the ring of hope was placed in your nose.
By which he led you around;
And you’ve looked at life without seeing it –
You only acted out your part,
The sad day of reality will force it’s way,
Into your aching heart.
You’ll grasp at dreams like whisps of smoke,
Which will destruct upon your glance;
And sadness will fully engulf your life,
As Reality says, ” No new chance!”.
You’ll hardly have care or strength to try
To sort out reality from dream,
The teddy bears, and special cares,
From cold, impersonal life schemes.
Reality, in which you dwelt all the while,
Knows his patience has won him his prize,
Forces upon you the cold hard fact,
That all dreams are, are lies !
So you try to stop that caravan,
That on-coming, dreaming troupe,
And warn them of all that you’ve learned
In hopes they’ll not follow suite;
But their worship of dreams, and plannings, and schemes
Have engulfed them in it’s soft mist.
And you see very well that you cannot tell
Of the beast which they give a fond kiss.
And somehow you confess as you watch them go by,
That ’tis better to have your cold heart,
Than to wander around in the suit of a clown
And only act out a part !
Feb. 13, 1981