Subject: [OTL]: Tomorrow [Sandman, G (poetry)] Date: 30 Apr 2001 11:25:03 MDT From: Joan Milligan Hmm, here's an experiment I have no idea why I did - a fanfic poem, in free verse to boot. Let's hope it won't stink too much. Right, disclaimer: don't own Dream, not the Dreaming and not the real people. The first two are Vertigo's, though the latter belong solely to themselves. Since no one beta'd this, I have no one to thank. I do have a few people to dedicate it to: This poem is to the memory of Isaac Asimov, Gene Roddenberry, George Orwell and Jules Verne, who had a lot to do with tomorrow. This poem is also for Taze, who might be glad to have it :). And finally, this poem is for one Israeli poet Nathan Alterman, who had his own views of tomorrow and wrote them so well he managed to convince me to try and counter them. So there you have it: Tomorrow A Sandman poem by Joannie Milligan The millenium turned in the realm of the Dreaming. The year 2000 had started an hour before, And in the heart of the realm, five silent figures Stood ready and eager to enter the castle That lay and awaited, with ease most unsettling For the passage of the next one thousand years. On the gates stood a Wyvern, a Gryphon and a Pegasus And at the figures looked down grimly, Till one of the gate guardians spoke. "Follow the flame, and do not stray from your path, Our Lord has been expecting you all. Your claims will be heard." And thus, four of the dreamers Stepped forth and entered the castle fearlessly And the fifth sneaked behind them to follow the flame And went unnoticed by any. Flames crawled on the sleek marble floor Leading the figures - four men and a girl - Into the very depth of the castle Where a throne stood; eternal and proud And on the throne there appeared a sixth figure A tall man of skin as white as ivory And eyes that reflect the most distant of stars Looking down at the figures, he bid them all welcome As the girl crawled into the darkness of the room And waited for something great to come to pass. Anything great. The four men moved forward to kneel Before he who is lord of the castle and realm Yet he asked them to rise, and bid them to speak "You have not come to bow to me. No one has yet. Speak your hearts and I shall listen. You all have been expected here tonight." Thus they rose; and if frightened, it did not show on their faces. But they stayed still and hesitant. Till one walked forward and spoke to the Dream King. "Lord! I have come, since this year has arrived And certain thoughts trouble me on this day. You would remember - you gave me a gift Many ages ago, when I still walked the mortal plain And promised me, one Jules Verne, the secret of tomorrow. So now I ask, Dream Lord, why does the conundrum Stand yet unsolved? For yes, my tales Of machines of tomorrow have all come true And men today speak of them as reality But Lord, the tomorrow that I had in mind Was marvelous beyond thought and great beyond dreams Was fair to behold - and most inspiring Yet, today all my dreams are but uninspired reality, Familiar to all and magnificent to none. Where is my tomorrow, Lord, today?" The Dream Lord nodded, but made no reply And his eyes merely sparkled as twin stars As the next man came forth and spoke his heart. "King of Dreams! You would do well to remember The year of 1949, when I Came to this realm requesting a boon That you would let me give warning to my fellow men. That one George Orwell might tell of tomorrow So that mankind would know what it must not let happen How dark may their beautiful tomorrow be It was a gift granted, oh Lord - inspiration And the power of writing were at my command Yet stories are stories, and reality Does not seem to have changed - men still lie, men still hate So that, Lord, my warning failed, and tomorrow Is as bleak as I sought it not to be. Thus, tell me, oh you who are king of illusions Is this the only tomorrow there is?" The Dream King made no movement, said no word Not to approve and not to disapprove Only his star-eyes locked on the next man Till he stepped forward and spoke out his claims. "Lord of Dreams! It is me, yet another dreamer Whom you gave a gift thirty-odd years before To try and spread a word through the craft of the arts However, my words might have seemed quite different Back when I asked for them to be heard! Yet today, This one Gene Roddenberry is remembered As one who has brought millions hope of tomorrow With something as small as a television show For them - for all mankind - I created utopia But not merely, Lord, to entertain! How far-fetched may this fantasy had seemed Many hoped it to someday come true. Yet today is 2000, Dream Lord, and yet My bright tomorrow has yet to arrive And I, who gave hope, am swiftly losing it. I sought a bright tomorrow, and millions with me. Will it ever be found, Lord?" A smile seemed to flash on the Dream King's pale lips Yet he made no reply; merely indicated The next man, who, after hearing his companions' claims Seemed somewhat shy, but spoke nonetheless. "Sir! It would seem that my claim might seem lesser After all you have heard from these people tonight. I was no visionary, and gave no warning Nor hope. All I have done, Lord, was write. You, who gave me, one Isaac Asimov, A gift many years ago would know How I wrote of tomorrow and dreamed of tomorrow And hoped for tomorrow all of my life. And with me, Lord, six billion now dream Each in a fashion different from the rest Of a better future that might someday shed it light On their dull, brief lives; they all dream of tomorrow. And I, who have sworn myself to tomorrow Am starting to fear, Lord... that there is but today." He finished his words, then, and the Dream King Rose from his throne and looked down at the men And for a moment seemed pondering, considering his reply Until he spoke to them in a tone Neither comforting nor disappointing. "I have heard your claims, and remember your gifts, And truly wish I could change what is But in truth, sirs, I can't - this realm of dream Is not one to interact with the realm of reality And thus often the dreamers are disappointed Because their dreams have had no effect. I would gladly give you dreams of tomorrow, good sirs But what is - is, and that is all there is." The four's faces fell; none of them said a word And by truth, they seemed ready to both cry and leave And then the Dream King's gaze shifted To a darkened corner in the room Where the girl was listening in absolute silence And summoned a light to glisten on her features And spoke to her in a voice both booming and soft. "You came here as well, with those four, Yet I do not remember you, child, as a barer of my gift. Speak your heart." And the girl rose up, and did. "Dream King! I came here to ask to be blessed With the same gift you bestowed on many men Of creativity, the gift of the Word, in hopes That this one Joannie be great as these four! And yet now, Lord, I take back my request I do not wish for a pair of dream-wings For I live the tomorrow these writers have spoke of And tomorrow never comes to my world And it would not, Lord, for all that they wish it, And I believe that the answer in known This matter is one of an excess of dream! Wings granted so powerful their barer was carried Far away to the sky, until he left the Earth Behind, and drifted along with the dreams So that the Earth was not his to change, Not his to effect - and one cannot bring tomorrow to my world When one lives it in a world of dreams. Thus I renounce my request, oh Lord So that I may remain on the ground, and have power Over the world - and the power is there Tomorrow is ours for the making!" And before the four writers' amazement-filled eyes The Dream Lord smiled at the brave young girl And *did not bless her*, and instead sent her back To a world of fear and blight and despair, To a world of pain that must be healed, To a world of wrongs that must be put right, To a world of people that must be led to believe That the future is there waiting to be brought, With two feet on the ground and the mind in the skies To dream - and make dream and reality one And aye, God willing, to bring on tomorrow! "If you can dream - and not make dreams your master If you can think - and not make thought your aim..." Rudyard Kiplin -- "If - " End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ No, I don't really think I can do better than these four writers, but it WAS my idea... So what do you think? How's my attempt at poetry...? Joan Milligan "In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!" Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "A Psalm of Life"