There’s a room in the mind,
We visit at night,
to ride the waves in the mouth,
and fly on the winds of the lungs.
Call it the endless dream-plane.
Where evil is familiar, old as sin.
While the angel is an unwelcome stranger,
waiting at the gate.
But the soul sees and knows,
battles without a sword.
What died long ago, buried in dusk,
has given rise to a new sunrise.
A silent prayer in remembrance of the dream,
drifts, feather-soft.
And the flute’s crystal tone,
resurrects the lucid dream, awakening it.
Sing the hymn.
Fill the head.
Quench the emotions.
And dance like a silhouette,
against the soft canvas.
Run wild across the open field.
Reach towards nowhere,
that has no name.
Dissolve within the echo of you.
Smile at the new within.
Ready to unlock the hidden door,
in the built wall.
Life is not a thing to fix.
But a series of breaths better than yesterday’s.
The candlelight of hope,
a flame only you can tend.
A cave only you know.
Always near.
Always holding hands.
Always smiling at you.