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Poetry

the young genius of the dream

the moon hid in the clouds

as we sped into the night

on the brink of the new year

from the front seat

looking out into the artificially lit

featureless road

the few cars about at this time

I told the two children about

the ancient mysteries

of dream

which united all men in sleep

which the greatest minds

were unable to fathom

but which prompted

the endless back and forth of

debate and question

immediately there was

an answering voice

the young genius

all of five years and a few months

did not falter

with glorious confidence

he crowed

‘I know, I know’

and what the young genius of the dream

knew was worth the telling:

‘dreaming is thinking,

thinking with your heart’

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