Maya

Clark Ashton Smith

Fools of the world, who dream that dreams are true—
Believing still that life is what it seems,
And trustful that the world is more than dreams—
Free for a little, I have laughed at you:
Knowing all this a ghostly gossamer
In some eternal room of darkness spun;
A laughter of forgotten gods that were,
Echoing still in waste oblivion.

But once again, as others, I have lent
myself to earthly ways and earthly walls:
Illusion of illusion, fantasy
Of doubtful phantoms, nevermore to be
When slumber on the last delirium falls
And lulls the tossing shadows turbulent.

Printed from: www.eldritchdark.com/writings/poetry/322
Printed on: November 24, 2017