Blue pinions on pigs glide by overhead.
Turning, our eyes dart sideways, 'goodbye'.
Dream lingers to dream, and bed, we to bed
As if the Absurd, our lives, let us lie.
For what can be known of futures and wants,
(And judgements lumber like pigs fledging wings)
For love not listens to plans, but plans taunts;
And like the weighty swine, dives deliv'ring
Us to dreams and dreams, and dreams, yet again
As 'Nothing', through thought in being, has been
And 'All is' is but a matter of when
For here Reason finds no place to begin.
Absurd, our lives, let us lie in this way
As dreamworlds are what we, wishing them, say.
