A man dreams under the Winter shower:
Cold dreams, dreams unravelling at the seams,
But lucid.
Crisp.
Joyous…
Yet still sour
The night, and smother gentle Wintry dreams.

What troubles man but those slung arrows?
Those, from within pierce out. What is Justice?
What is man, what is a dream?
What far rows
Of volumes, leather-bound, you read, Faustus? 

Immersed was he in the Categories.
Has the philosopher brought you well-being?
Man, relinquish your observatories,
For naught they bring but dour dreams to eyes
      seeing.

And lo, hear I him, man, whose advice shuns,
Those harlot nights, and renounce them to nuns.

Shuweikh,
May, 2023.