Such carriage that to the common man
And child alike, affords the means to range
The skies, and the orbits close to the sun above -
That if a coach it was, for the gilded plaques alone,
How dreary a cloak, would night descend on many folk.
Sweet , quite often they're made of, like fine silk,
Or the purest of wine- dipped candy for the soul -
That awakens each carcass to the joy of living - and
Speckles the hours of the sun, with felicity sublime.
Ah dreams ,sweet dreams I say ; but there is a suite alas !
How often has the spectre chased out slumber
From our courts, and for himself a haven make -
Within the den; Torment like none other, a sleepy head
Would know , like a nightmare that awakens the demons
That within us lie ! What sweet dreams ? Dare I say!
Dreams , and the mysteries thereof are manifold.
A token glimpse to the other side, a seamless -
journey through quantum space, where all in all abides;
Where aspiration and manifestation entwine -
Where reality is perception and vise versa.
So, dream-on dreamers , you lovers of life -
Let not the wiles of banality your wishes suppress.
Cast deep and wide your kindling nets , and reap
That which your earnest and honest desires command.
For dead is he who forgets to dream .
With him in the grave, his dreams expire.
By Hope Kalé Ewusi ©
