What happens to the bits and flashes of dreams that elude us?

Forgotten shards of broken light--
The glimmers in a restless night.
A cosmic flash of quantum flow--
A starlit thought of long ago.

All have passed, yet more are born
To leave us in the mist of morn.
Daydreams, too, are fleeting things
That fly from us on secret wings.

The colors lost, as are the sounds--
The hidden hopes of hallowed grounds.
Somewhere the pieces culminate,
And surely shadow dreamers' fate.

That place is where the cherished are;
Those dreams we thought had crossed the bar,
But kept for us where starlight gleams
Upon the Isle of Finished Dreams.