We all are given rare gift...
The time will pass, the planes will shift,
But for as long as we have dreams -
To live through time we have all means.

The dream may free, the dream may kill,
The dream may heal - and make one ill,
The dream may bless, the dream may curse,
It's paradise - and the abyss.

The dream is not a thing to share,
And pure dreams are truly rare.
So many dim, yet some as flare...
But one will never lay them bare.

The dream is like a guiding light,
Yet its existence makes a plight,
And when one dreams of other's love -
His own feelings bent to muff.

The dream is powerful somehow...
I too once dreamed of pure love,
But when it turned to be a bluffer -
The time has come for one to suffer.

There is no time for second thought,
That dream is doomed to die and rot,
Through withered lands I'm passing by...
Now dream is foe, not ally.

For when one hide in endless dreams -
Their bitter nature feed his sins.
When their poison flows through veins -
One only strengthen own pains.

But once the pain is forsaken,
And pieces of shattered dream are taken,
I will create new one and sate...
Is that is how the dream degrade?

I will still keep my dream of other,
If not for you - than for another.