As I lay here
Encapsulated in softness
I close my eyes tenderly
For my dreams are placid
Gossamer, floating wild yet gently
My dreams are the sparkles
My dreams are the ambers
But my dreams are not dreams
My dreams are honeyed streams
Manifestation
Of bliss, of love so pure

I am witness of a miracle
I was born once as mortal clay
Buried deep within, seeds of my dark fate
They said,
“You can change not,
Your fate is forged,
On iron pages it is wrought”
Exclaimed I;
“Does not moisture crack the seeds?
Does not I carry that grows to reed?”

So I marched on barren lands
Wildly searching that could damp
Scared,  a step with each heartbeat
Thorns piercing and bleeding my feet
To heavens I prayed in desperate I cried,
Tears of agony in my eyes
That moment bestowed upon me
Our blood is the water that damps the seeds
The more we bleed, the more we reap

Hence I was reborn amongst sunniest rays
To taste the sweetness in bitterness
To experience the noise in silence
To listen the music in smiles
To see the laughter in eyes

As I drift to sleep now
I will not dream, I can never dream
My reality is too beautiful,
My reality is all I dream

Until that day when,
My reality becomes only a dream,
When my lids would turn stones
And the blood in me runs dry
Till that last day,
I will use my blood
To moist my seeds of fate