Silent is the poet that pens all that he/she wishes to see

Whispers in the wind form dreams of essence

Caressing a soulful moon, calling throughout the lonely trees

Clouds of silver lining disappearing

Flooding darkness with millions of piercing lights

To see the world as no one sees

To touch, to take flight

Endless timepieces floating, floating out of reach

The poet knows not what this means, yet interprets in speech, the world as what only he/she wants to dream

Reds, blues, yellows with every color in between

Colorless paints silently paint the scene

Brilliance of masterpiece, Illusions in ribbon streams

To sing with soulful voice from within, passionate is the spirit so strong, yet weak

Dancing wildflowers along the way, each portraying a theatrical face of many

Roses overflowing with tears, praying to stay and take another bow until the final curtain. 

Basking in glory, each petal chosen lives another year without true love

No memories to grasp

No dreams to remember

The curtain drawn, visualize the present, future, and somewhat forgotten past

Enchanted chimes heard from afar

It is now time to wake up

See what was created while in slumber

Envisioning the hearts' passionate desire

Painted are tears in water, pains of wild fire

Silent is the poet that pens all that he/she wishes to see

Another dream, another night what shall it be?