"The dreams came back"

The dreams came back to haunt again,
and she was right at the fore of them.
A little older and wiser but still the same;
a thing entwined never really leaves.

Dancing with her in the summer rain;
it was a memory that never happened,
but one that held fast with iron chains.
Dancing under the sun one May day.

I consort with the night, slumberless,
and there in the dark her face shines.
She speaks words of starlight that bind,
to a dreamer wishing to be deaf and blind.

The dreamer must awaken or fall,
escape the dream-halls and end it all.
Or is there no end to the reverie?
No release for he who remains entralled?

Poem XXXIX
M.M. — 05-Jan-2014