I
There was
once a town
By a shaded
wood
Where people
didn't know
How to dream
They lived
lives like clockwork toys
Rising and
toiling with the sunrise
They had
their meals at a fixed time
And made
love to their wives
Once a month
In this town
there were no artists
Nor writers
or preachers
For the word
of God was unknown here
II
There was
once a merchant
Who lived in
Baghdad
He sold one
type of ware
His cargo
was dreams
He had
dreams about every subject
Dreams that
were happy, sad and fulfilled or abandoned
He kept them
in little glass bottles
And sold
them for coin
The merchant
would come into the market
With his
sack full of dreams
Dainty as a
clown, he would pluck one out
And hand it
to the lost
III
The merchant
travelled far and wide
Seeking to imprison
dreams
Which he
would then sell
For a price
of course
His travels
brought him to our little town
By the edge
of the wood
Where nobody
had seen a dream
And the
people did not believe
IV
The merchant
put up at the inn
And noticed
the idiosyncrasies
Of the
people in the town
When asked
what he sold
He replied
"Dreams"
"What
is a dream?" they asked
Regarding
him with awe
And so he
told them of his wares
Long into
the night
V
The merchant
woke early
And set up
his wares
People
flocked to his stall
Seeking a
dream to wrap themselves in
Before long
his wares were all sold
And a
handsome sum he had made
He then
packed up and prepared to leave
Promising to
come again
But he never
returned
To the town
he had taught to dream
VI
The dreams
they bought gave them hope
But soon
they began to despair
For the
merchant was a wicked man
And had sold
them nightmares
And so it
came to be
That the
inhabitants went mad with grief
And their
dreams lay shattered on the hearth
In pieces at
their feet
VII
So should
you meet this merchant, friend
Beware of
what he sells
For his
dreams are not happy or healthy
And he is
clever and crafty
Dare to
dream on your own
Dream of a
better tomorrow
A world
without anger and pain
And lots and
lots of rain
Dream of
love, dream of peace
Dream of
discoveries and happy things
Do not let
dream turn to nightmare
For then the
dream merchant has fooled you
And you are
naught but his tool
The Bilge Master
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