Dreams          Man kindles a light for himself in the nighttime.               — HERODITUS OF EPHESUS   Their logic is not your logic, their rules are your shadow rules, the passions at play unconstrained by what you thought to be true — life reconsidered, life retrieved. By day you shoulder your fine certitudes; like an ox you submit to the yoke of everything you’ve gathered as your burdens.                                                      But night mocks your certitudes, it flies in on bat wings and stages weird little plays starring you as your self, works out the neurotheology of your self, makes you play the fool in every worst way — it watches you falling, forever falling, falling . . .                                            Dear night, blameless night, take me down into the foundry, soot-black, steaming, where the only light is the glow of molten slag all around.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont March 2015