Why do I dream the things I do?
Am I their architect or not?
Or do they fall like morning dew
Upon some unsurprising lot
Of land that lies between my ears
And has no other place to go,
So all my hopes, desires and fears
Are acted out as in some show?
Or are my dreams a way for me
To tread some dune or far-off shore
I’d otherwise not get to see,
And that’s what I’ve been dreaming for?
Regardless where the answer lies,
What things go on behind my eyes!
Photo by Tony Detroit on Unsplash
