Dream is where the dark
ringing; where the magic
of the wind rush. Before
I remember the brush
and the golden rush.
Between the crossfire.
There is a web of truth
to this sleeping awake,
and trying to catch.
This is the second batch.
The dreams are dreaming.
The songs are singing.
Soon I will burn all my tears,
kill any of those fears.
There are now dreams to catch.
Save it for another match.
Soon is too much time.
Shall I foster my life.
For once I shall change,
this is my dream age.
Does it matter what wakes.
When and if you quake.
Dancing on a golden lake.
Rushing through the other side,
Dreams catch never truly hide.
For once and we fall, to sleep
and feel
free.