I woke exhausted, having struggled free
from dreams, set in a dim, oppressive hall
in which I laboured hard and ceaselessly,
though for what purpose, I do not recall.
A fog had lifted from my eyes, and through
the clear air I saw in brighter light
this mundane world, its fields sown anew
with possibilities.  What treasures might
be found here, what majestic trees might grow
in this rich earth?  Cursing lost hours, I saw
on distant hills a honey-coloured glow,
the gift of evening.  So I must implore
the kindly sun to grant me time to mould
a new day from these remnants of the old.