I Walk in the Mists

I walk in the mists of a thousand worlds,
Alone, separate, apart,
Do I create them? Or they me?
I know not where to start.

My dreams take me to far-off lands,
To dragons, fought with sword,
Where strange, exotic, rare disease
Is conquered by a word.

The people in these places strange,
Yes, they've been always there,
I know them and I know their ways,
In some ways, I am them.

The freezing, bitter winds entomb
My memories of today,
I wander ever in the maze,
Forgetting where to go.

They're part of me, these strange worlds,
And sometimes I wonder,
Are they merely imagination?
Or were they there before?

1978