THE DREAMER

 

Under the starlit sky I stand gazing.

With outstretched arms reaching upward,

I grasp for my dreams.

 

I need not touch them for their radiance to feed my soul.

The soul needs dreams for its nourishment.

Without them it shrivels like a plant denied sunlight.

I know their origin, nor does it seem possible to touch them.

 

Still I seek to behold their essence.

And I desire to encase them in concrete form.

Perhaps the Imagination bridges spirit and matter.
Dreams and form.

 

They will one day show their face to me.

This I believe.

Inspiration knows no limits.

 

O Muses, lift me higher and higher past this mortal realm!

Let me play in the Elysian Fields with the gods and goddesses,

and drink from their fountains so clear and sweet.

 

I close my eyes.

Bacchus intoxicates me with celestial drink.

Soon I see the stars far below.

 

I reach down and touch them.

The Muses embrace me tenderly, smiling.

In their eyes I behold my dreams one by one.