Lodged in dreams

while searching 

for a story

in a rural field of

the astral plain I

drifted to last night

I happened upon

a secret society

of men who built

without nails

though the ceiling

of their lodge

was grinning with

an iron smile

and their members

were strangers

though I knew

one or two of them

but the leader

was invested to show

me their ways

and we left the lodge

into the sudden night

and pondered those

who may fly

through darkened skies

and I confessed I had

seen some before

as we watched remnants

of a flare

fall down upon

the grassy floor

yet waking had

other plans 

and grabbed my shoulder

to pull me from

the scene

though I longed for

and struggled to

remain in the dream