Yeoman of Dreams

Still awake, he spent the morning dreaming,
Over-indulging in a world he created for the purpose of escape,
Unable to do so, he became disoriented and eventually lost,
He was found drowned, washed up on the shores of the dreaming sea,
In the waking world he disappeared, and nobody noticed his absence,
For he was never fully there, his existence was semi-transparent,
He kept one foot in the present, and the other firmly in the dream realm,
Fruitful was the Yeoman, this cultivator of vast dreamlands,
He sort solace through imagination, and found comfort in the world of dreams,
A rider of two storms, but ultimately he became the master of none.