It is a place where fantasies are born.
Neither here nor there,
But lost between the two.
In a soft bed at the end of day,
And the only one there is you.
–
Such reveries come without expectations,
Moving far beyond the test of time.
No exertions necessary,
Adventures gliding on a breeze,
No need to run or climb.
–
Dreamy, yet aware,
A filter between sleep and wake,
Something between day and night,
Seeing such creations idealised,
But contented with the fake.
–
Whispers heard and half heard,
In the seclusion of the mind.
Lost in a calm euphoria,
Forever being in the moment.
Joy of a special kind.
–
A journey through an ethereal trail,
No matter the compass askew.
Moving to a place where you are not,
Making all unchartered waters your own,
Moving gracefully through.
A place where a unicorn whinnies,
Where fairies dance and sing,
Fantasy in all its disguises,
Allowing visions that mystify,
They create each and everything.
–
Nothing invades this private sanctuary,
And all that thrives in a dream,
Untouched by life’s harsh reality,
And inner visions come flooding in,
That only the dreamer can deem.
–
With ideas lit by a trillion stars,
Where faraway whispers come and go,
With visions barely on the periphery,
With enchantment growing with such power,
That only the dreamer may know.
–
A place that can still all echoes,
With all illusions made real.
A place where no structure or rules apply.
A place where silence sleeps alone,
Where the tangible becomes surreal.
–
It is within this half-lit world,
Where harmless things remain,
Where forgetfulness is precious,
Where reason does not apply,
Where every wish is granted,
Across twilight’s vast terrain.