In the quiet of night, where dreams take off,
We construct our palaces, going after light.
A world unbound, where the heart can wander,
Each wish a flash, touching off our home.
However, first light breaks delicately, with shadows close behind,
Reality murmurs, its flows stream slow.
The street feels rough, with obstructions close,
What once appeared to be so close currently feels far off, hazy.
However dreams are the seeds of what could be valid,
A material of trust, painted new with each shade.
However the world might oppose, and the way might be long,
We accumulate our mental fortitude, we figure out how to be solid.
For dreams are the compass that guides us every day,
In the mix of our dreams, we'll figure things out.
With each step we take, both grounded and intense,
We weave our own story, an embroidery told.
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