R.E.M.

Painstakingly carved out of thin air,
The premise is whimsical.
What may or may not occur,
Is oft the only principle.
Conjurings are made, such a glorious tirade.

Eyes light up at the thought,
When impossibilities come forth.
No mind is given…or taken,
When rabid pupils start to froth.
Disdainfully real, almost ethereal.

Stages move on, shows stay the same,
There seems no end to this journey of visions.
At the end, it’s the cliché that sticks out,
These things are not known for making provisions.
There is so much to gain…but remind me, what was that dream again?