I dream.
An existence, pined upon
a night’s pillow – embracing
a promised sunrise.

Morning tears, crusted
within the folds
of happiness? Sometimes.
Of sorrow? Perhaps.

A crafty dream, laced
twixt heart and soul – love
and life constrained,
in free will.

Is it truly free, of
another’s will? A will,
when confined to this world,
shall never be free.

I dream.
A reality of strength, in
my will – in love,
with humility and grace.

This place, this heart
pervades my being – in
dreams by day as of
night – not mares.

For these dreams,
guide my soul, in
anticipation of what
tomorrow brings.

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