The Creator's Great Crime
In dreams, what may come?
Anything, because
In sleep, like in death,
We are unbounded
And have infinite breadth.
We are free from the day,
And its cares, brought to light.
And free from the night's darkness,
That hides, and makes mystery.
We are freed from weakness.
Awake, we are boxed.
We are limited:
Out bodies limit,
Our vision limits.
Always stuck within it.
It's our reality:
To be boxed, but be free;
To be able to be,
Only one at a time.
It's creation's great crime.
In dreams, what may come?
Anything, because
In sleep, like in death,
We are unbounded
And have infinite breadth.
We are free from the day,
And its cares, brought to light.
And free from the night's darkness,
That hides, and makes mystery.
We are freed from weakness.
Awake, we are boxed.
We are limited:
Out bodies limit,
Our vision limits.
Always stuck within it.
It's our reality:
To be boxed, but be free;
To be able to be,
Only one at a time.
It's creation's great crime.
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