I've heard that our dreams can be a dangerous place
Yet, in my dreams I find a home
With no vacancy for anyone else
Here, a flower gros in the Desert's unforgiving sand,
A place where a painted soul is graffiti not beauty.
Oh my Dream, the Peter Pans of all joys,
As dangerous as you might be,
You fly like Icarus to paint Reality's polluted sky.
Again, you caress my conscious ache with ethereal hues.