Choir Of Dreams
There is a land of motley musings,
Beyond the horizon where clouds float.
It houses the adobe of fluttering dreams,
Where the mind goes for its nightly stroll.
While on its excursion through the dim and lit halls,
It discovers a canvas in the stream of thoughts.
Some faces flash on and off, most known yet some unknown,
Some look at me with a kind gaze, while others with a vicious smirk.
Sometimes there is a resolute knight, fighting the dismaying desolation of war,
Sometimes appears a crumbling prisoner consuming itself in the guilt’s core.
Sometimes I meet a scared child looking for the familiar touch of care,
And some nights it is an apparition, threatening to tear my soul with a spare.
Somedays the visual of a cheering crowd coddling over every move of mine,
Sometimes its a story of severe strife that behooves me to struggle against that plight.
Every night when I close my eyes in this world of mortal scenes,
The mind opens a cornucopia to the choir of my dreams.