Poems

[Poem] Return Address To Morpheus

A poem on the painful nature of dreams.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedTo Morpheus

Morpheus: I have these dreams
That you bring which I can't bear.
They fill me up with too much hope
For mankind; they make me care.
Do not send me any more dreams;
I'd not want to wake again,
Only to find that they're not real;
To find that lingering pain.

Do not come to bring me respite.
Do not come to gift your salve.
For I am sick of feeling well—
Then worse, once you close the valve.
Keep me from apothecaries
Where they do not deal in death
Or poison, like the drug stores do,
Those I pass with bated breath.

Show me neither the unspoiled fields
Of healthy crops and livestock,
With no sight of pylon puppets,
Wires snaking distant rock.
Do not bring me to the table
And make me taste its cabbage.
For I shall wake and find it's fake
And I have only silage.

Do not play me those songs of praise
That raise up my spirits high.
My sense of self will break apart
When I fall out of the sky.
See that I stay in the bear-pit,
Where the grizzlies growl their lie.
I'll watch them posture in their furs
To make innocent men die.

Morpheus: Your imports are not
What you made them out to be.
And still I keep getting samples,
All they give me's grief—for "free".
Morpheus: I still get dreams,
Ones you bring that I can't bear.
Do not send me any more hope
For mankind, and make me care.

Morpheus Replies

Weary soul: I know my writings
Will not satisfy your rage.
It saddens me to hear the things
Troubling you at this stage.
But dreams are not the cause of these,
Your dreams are symptomatic.
Know these dreams you see are but keys
Fate leaves for life's schematic.

Weary soul: I cannot help you
In the illness from the storm.
The gods' great rains can soak you through;
In each life this is the norm.
So my dreams come sent as threading
For your heart to knit the shawls
To keep warm that sense you're heading
Fate-ward way, to where he calls.

Weary soul: I'm not your farmer,
I cannot plough in your soil.
My hands are of no snake-charmer,
I cannot stop Eden's spoil.
But I can show you every seed
You need for a new garden.
Whether there's floods, whether there's greed,
Fate says each time you'll harden.

Weary soul: The songs your mind sings
All exist from long ago,
From times before you clipped your wings
Thinking there's no more to know.
Every dream's a single feather
That I plucked from the remains.
I made sure they stayed together;
Fate says you defy your chains.

Weary soul: There's never a life
Where dreamers do not have woes.
For to be live will bring you strife
And immeasurable lows.
But, dear soul: Recall that you prayed
For some help so you'd survive.
Keep these dreams, keep promises made;
Fate's approved so that you'll thrive.

Return Address To Morpheus ~ A Poem by Tom Shaw

Ovid’s narrative poem Metamorphoses is the only ancient account we have which makes mention of Morpheus. He is called the god of dreams, becoming involved in the tragedy of Alcyone and Ceyx who incur the wrath of Zeus for their transgressions against the gods. Morpheus is sent by Juno (the Roman equivalent of Hera) into Alcyone’s dreams, to inform Alcyone of the passing of her husband Ceyx.

In describing Morpheus, Ovid says:

“no other is more skilled than he in representing the gait, the features, and the speech of men; the clothing also and the accustomed words of each he represents.”

It’s possible that Morpheus is purely Ovid’s invention. Regardless, Morpheus has gone on to inspire countless further artists and media. Notably, this includes Morpheus in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, which itself provided inspiration for the character of Morpheus in The Matrix.

Things You Only Notice About The Matrix After Rewatching The Series — Lawrence Fishburn as Morpheus in *The Matrix (1999)*

In The Matrix, Morpheus is Neo’s guide back to reality. However, his offer of the “red pill” to see “how deep the rabbit-hole goes” does not come without pain and hardship. While Neo experiences this, the supporting character of Cypher also embodies this struggle well. Cypher finds the true nature of reality too difficult to come to terms. Ultimately makes a deal with the machines to betray Morpheus and return to the Matrix without any of his memories, under the impression that “ignorance is bliss”.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t wrestled with the same kinds of struggles that Cypher experiences in The Matrix. I continue building a greater awareness of the broader, more covert trends at play in the world around us... but I feel great sadness and frustration when the sledgehammer of our current moments reminds me we’re still not quite at the harmonious world I see in my dreams that I know is possible. That takes a lot of energy to manage.

I can forgive Cypher for wanting to throw in the towel—for it all being too much. I can forgive the parts of myself that would want to do the same. But that pain and discomfort is a signal that there is work here to be done, work that speaks to our purpose and destiny here on Earth. This is absolutely speaks to the works of Jung and Nietzche amongst others, as Alchemist explores well in the article below:

The road to truth is a hard one to follow when beginning from a world of lies. But neglecting the intuition within us that knows there is something more to be had will only make us more uncomfortable and more miserable. Indeed, those urges will only get more painful until we’re compelled to do something about them, because the alternative would be certain death.

We were given the power to dream for a reason. Dreams are our imperative act, so we can keep living in them long after we awaken. So, dream on. And let us act to make the best parts of our dreams reality.

Your Turn

The form of this poem is a derivative of the chastushka, a form of Russian folk lyric with an 8-7-8-7 syllable count. Chastushki are normally humorous or satirical in nature, and are set to music which acts as a refrain between the various verses. The closest form we have in the West that compares to it is probably the Irish limerick - a form I’ve played with before.

I don’t think its a coincidence that I’m currently in the middle of reading Crime and Punishment either. I discovered this form around the time I was wanting to write a poem on these topics, and being able to employ some Russian connections helped to flesh out some of the ideas in this piece, and in pairing bleakness and despair with irony and juxtaposition.

If you’re feeling a little adventurous, I’d love to see your attempts at a chastushka in the comments of this piece - or at least something poetic which draws on ideas around dreams and reality.