Waning

Through written word — through pixels on a screen 
or ink on paper — hereby I invoke: 
let it be known that henceforth it shall be 
to Edward William Elgar and his wife; 
to Caroline Alice Roberts and her husband; 
to the Titans, to the Fates, to the Muses, to Memory, 
to Mount Parnassus, to the Pierian Spring; 
to Montreal, the land of dreams and dreams; 
to Waterloo, the hometown I have lost; 
to friends once lightly gained yet long retained, 
to loves long lost to time and time again; 
and to my yearning lost along the way 
that I will dedicate my finite gifts 
in writing this novella: The Wind at Dawn.

A dream we dream alone is but a dream; 
a dream we dream as one, reality.