The leaves cling to the trees
Dream
Relinquish the surreality of the moment
To the echoing resonance of the ephemeral

To you I cling
But the slightest wind
A passer by
My trembling heart
May pluck me from your branch
And to the ground shall I fall

Such is the reality of the waking Dream
Secure are we in innocence and in delusion
But all we do is weave into the nothingness
and the uncontrollable
Imaginary strings and levers
The puppet dreaming to be the master
The master delusional for his hands
Do not truly move to his desire

And yet we cling
and sleep
Forever secured in the reality we weave

____
My "5 Minute Poem Challenge" poem from the Poetry group. Felt like posting it here, too.