Dream work

Should I live? Should I die? 
And The sun upon my head let dream 
Of meeting the moon. 
Perfect, ecstasy so slow,volatilizing 
To the azure carpet. 
Disappearing from the old snow, 
And the river beyond me let flow, 
And the gray wooden village sink, 
The broken damsel let weep 
Upon her white- washed Swain. 
 
Blue to green, 
A wish ,a dream 
A nightmare. 
A heart-wrenching calamity. 
-all so odorless- 
-all too clear- that all is the same 
Ascending" something" 
After hundreds of years, 
Defined cannot be. 
At last incurably unkown.

Incurably unkown