In darkest sleep of tiring slumber
come dreams of flawless beauty,
of winter and snow, of changing in seasons;
shifting like time passing.
The flow of time is a season, everlasting.
Inhabitants of worlds never seen,
appear, and burn bright in a dream.
Emancipated from never existing,
to be alive and real, to breathe,
and make worlds anew bright with sights unseen.
The wakeful wisps of dream fly up,
like smoke to the chimney and fog in mid morn'
drifting to lands waiting for dream,
flying like sunshine replacing moonbeams.
One waits for the other to shine.
The songs that play in the minds of dreamers,
mean things profound and glorious.
Seldom remembered and pressed hard to understand,
we never quite reach that distant land...
So sleep a little while more,
and rest in worlds unknown,
think of the pleasant thought gone by,
wondering as you forget them.
Will you remember me when I am only a dream,
after aged reality has brought much sorrow?
I would hope to find you in my dreams,
and see you all of my tomorrows....