All directions are a trap.
Do not follow the map
Or be caught in amber’s sap.
Oh, the body can move
With the fevers of love
Or the lifted brow of thought,
But don’t learn what’s taught.
The aimlessness of dreams
Is only the ripping of seams
On a child’s outgrown gown.
You can’t dream up or down.
So do not try to run away,
Dear one. Stand still, sway,
And you’ll not wander astray.