What dreams may come and though they may falter, may stumble into another life; still they come like spring waves to crash into a beach of fears. I can never stop the dreams from coming even when in the deepest throes of activity, still they come; like whispers on a breeze to tempt me into another scenario of joy.

Yet, what dreams may have come to go unnoticed in the heat of the day, or have faded away as they played out like Shakespearian tragedy, into the long depth of night. I have not the answer, but the dreams go on and only time will silence a mind that cannot ever stop wondering about the questions we are born to ask.

And what dreams are yet to come? Carved and drawn from my fertile mind watered by devotion and your faithful innocence. Dreams to shape, take form as the sun rises behind a distant hill and then race out toward the enchantment of this new day. Fluid and boundless they hold sway and the world has not the hours to hold them.

And what dreams shall be left when all thoughts are stilled. Shall a dream live forever and may I live with it as an echo fading into the dreams of others. For me to dream a life less ordinary and then slide into the peace of eternity; that is my dream. For I shall still and quiet one day ,but shall then reawaken in your dreams and we will have peace always together.