Shrouded forever in the abyssal deep

Are lost and fallen visions from long before.

Once they were worlds found only in sleep;

Taking one to the edge of life’s shore.

Dreaded fears would always take time to creep

Not to warn of danger but to cause uproar

On the idea of consciousness and being;

For what is perception in a life unseeing?

 

Those dreams that took bloom in darkness,

Only brought wistfulness and longing. 

Is existence defined by physical presentness,

Or by appearance in our times of pondering?

Maybe the world sought after could truly caress

The pursuing anxieties within our life’s ring.

Yet these worlds are as fleeting as a light turned on or off.

How could they bring peace when all they do is scoff?

 

The dreams try to make us (to this life) disavow.

But is this perceptive life really real?

Who’s to say we’re in a dream now

While we try to return origins to fully heal. 

Speculation of this will never get anywhere but shall

Only just worsen the mind’s conscious seal.

When the gates holding back our thinking release,

We break all the bands keeping in the peace.

 

Therefore what are we to do with temporary dreams?

Use them only to amend all our broken seams.