As I sleep, the images pierce through my brain
and I wonder if they are dreams, fears, or memories
the images are pure as the dew of the dawn
I hold on to the images for when they go
my life will be as a barren field frozen with snow
I try to live up to the images for they die
my life will be a broken-winged bird that  cannot fly

They haunt me in my sleep
empty and false are the hopes of the senseless
borne aloft by dreams
like a man who catches at shadow
or chase the wind.
Believing in dreams as the reality
divination all dreams are unreal.
I expect more but the mind depicts
dreams have led many astray
and the fear of believing
fill my heart for I may perish.