The teet'ry balance is now stabilized:
The mystic lies which war with truths unbound
Have left the lookers-on all mesmerized,
And finally the justice scales are found.
So nice a dream - it's good to dream, I think,
To dream of worlds much nicer than our own,
To sever ties with this too hateful link
Between what we should see and what is shown.
Escape is nice, but don't forget to deal
With worms inside your home, the wicked drones,
The things that hurt in ways you know are real
No matter how you love those phantom bones.
Oh yes, a balance would be so sublime,
And dreams, I think, are not just wasted time.