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The Gate
I once saw in the middle of a field,
I mean quite in the middle of nowhere,
A gate. On one side stretched for miles the field;
The other, the same field. I came across
This gate spying it from neither direction,
Though how that can be possible, you ask
As I did. Yet it was as if the gate
Asked me, while I was hovering above
(Or buried under?) Which side of the gate
Do you want to be on? Then I—I woke.
You see how dreams make all things possible,
Even a third side of that nagging gate,
And its illogical recurrent query,
The daily basis on which we all live.
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