My dreams do not come to me at night
At night when I lay my thoughts to sleep
To sleep on the crest of the purple pillow
Pillow that eavesdrop into the white desires
White desires that echo in my heart.
My heart is where I nurse passion
Passion is the cart that rides me
Rides me on the sands of diligence
Of diligence that leads to the place
Where I meet my dreams with grace.
Who puts the visions in my head;
My head and my unconscious mind to see?
To see another world that we live in
Live in sheer occurring sensations of the mind
The mind, playing on set,vague creativity off script
Off script indeed God directs his plays
Plays varying from ordinary to unreal and bizarre
And bizarre yet manifesting our desires
Our desires and anxieties staged so gleam
The story told or untold remains mysteries of a dream
Sleep is a theater for dreams
For dreams do visit at night
At night do I lie to muse on her
Her fragile frame ignites my flames
My flames burning to shine
To shine you must feed your dreams
Dreams can be very well nurtured
Well nurtured if you must attain them,
For the mind and soul must be in tandem
Each time i lie down, I travel beyond
Travel beyond this realm
This realm adorned in anxiety
Anxiety of life well armed to kill dreams
Kill dreams before they grow into realities.
Into realities, I would transform my dream each time I lie
Lie down, eyes closed, facing the sky
The sky of dream realm
Dream realm, where illusions are born
But there, my muse finds it lowborn.