The Mortality Of Dreams

Dreams, like all special things, are not finite
Wisps of thought that drift across the universe
Helpless in their direction
Oblivious of their destination

Dreams carry messages of hope and desire
Better outcomes and a world painted as we would have it
Ungraspable, shimmering aspects of image
Yet retrievable in memory of their birth

In light and dark they pierce the vale of the commonplace
Make wonderous our most secret wishes
For good or bad they are there always
Testimony to our undisguised selves

Dreams have no mortality
No house from which they may be cast
For in their birth they are set free
Across a welcoming universe of which they are a most sacred part

In the end, it is In dreams we lie
Lost in a splendor beyond life
Gifted of the dreams of others
Joined in a celestial harmony

I will see you, be you, there


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