flew to all corner
nightmarish sleeping dreams
turned real as if waking from dreams
hatred spew poison
would blood be far behind?
what seems is not always as it seems
brittle to touch, a map had fallen apart
countries lay scattered on the ground.
that time is not far behind
when it wouldn't only be a piece of paper
our brittle doings are reason enough
There are sleeping dreams and waking dreams;
What seems is not always as it seems.
Opening lines of A Ballad of Boding by Christina Rossetti
Hop on aboard the Poetry Tain and have you checked carry on tuesday yet?