If I move from this place then the rhyme will be lost br like the dreams when you move from the bed. All the lessons br we’ve learned between slumber and light are the truths, never making br the pages of knowing. br br All we have are these caves living deep in our minds br Where potholes are many and where entities speak, on their own br in the dark. Here the hand has to steer very close to the soul br or it writes on regardless ever emptying out. br br All these dreams, they’re for us to pass on when we die br so that others can read as they journey thereafter. Your words br lit up cities where I chose to roam. A much needed distraction, br one I’ve treasured so long. br br Your mind softened the pain when I got stuck br When these caves heard my cries all alone in the dark br You lit paths for me there when the lights went out and you reached for br my hand when the rains came down br br So while you are a poet who is still undead br and the clocks on the walls tick around my longing br Show me your pages that remain unread and bring light to these caves br where my soul is crawling.......