O’ sacred sleep, maker of dreams,
in you my wonder lies;
to hold your court where chaos reigns
for penitence and sighs of sorrow’s past
and love reborn;
a cleaner state of mind
granted freely for a taste of death
and ashes left behind.
You reap the past as yet unknown
and hold it closer still
that I may view my future days
devoid of fate or will.
A narrow path before me now;
this ever closing wheel
that brings me back to where I live
between the false and real.
As I awaken, do I keep
to brighter worlds now seen
in this gift of nightly vision?
Or is all I see now just a dream;
a liar’s pale revision
of what was once
the one true world
now fading into remission?
Memories beg to me once more;
we live, we cry, we love.
We paint the world inside your mind
to create a heaven above.
Hell’s the thing that’s left behind
when you truly believe
in your heart and in your soul.
All I have shown you
how to find
is yours for the taking;
yours for the making;
can you live without a soul?
I believe you take that chance
every time you have that nightly dance.
But t’was a dream I hear you say
as you see the light of day;
leaving dream-speak behind
for that thing that you call real.
Who’s to say that memories past
or dreams were ever meant to last;
now that vision has come so clear.
Yes, who’s to say that you must live
inside this spell you’ve cast.
Close your eyes and dream your life;
For awakening is oh, so dear.
© 2014 Stephen Boothe