In the bag of could-have-beens,
Tucked away in a corner of life,
There is always one that beckons to be opened,
Every now and then,
To be disconnected from the bag and the life around,
Into virtual existence,
A form that nothing else could take,
Perhaps it takes place in the mind, or sub-conscience or an intentional dream.
It leaves you surprised by its mere existence,
The announcement of its existence,
The interpretation of the announcement,
The vainness of the interpretation,
The beauty of the vainness.
And when the dream dissolves, and unwraps into the present,
Life goes on.
No regrets, no guilt, no compunction,
Yet another stretch of an unadulterated journey,
Until the next power nap of reminiscence.