A snake had bit me
in my dream;
I grabbed it by the head.
Venom was in me,
it would seem,
so I whipped and beat it dead.
I looked for people
or a cure,
but I could find no aid,
and as I trudged on,
with pain so pure,
I forgot to be afraid.
I stopped to rest
beneath a tree
some time about midday,
and when I started
thinking free,
I knew that I would be okay.
What does it mean –
this dream I had?
I don’t think that there’s an answer.
You could examine
any tale and add
the legwork of a dancer.
I encounter things,
then make a choice
on how onward I shall go
and give little thought,
or little voice,
to meanings that I don’t bestow.