Spectral in heaven as climbs
the frail veiled moon
So climbs my dreams
So yesterday in father's exquisite garden
where crystal water's flowing, flowing
flowing from an adorned goddess fountain
and amongst lovely flowers blooming
blooming, blooming, blooming
i inquire of father, my father whom i adore
my loving father, the king of all dreams
daydreams, night dreams and fantasies
Father, from whence does dreams come?
and he explains this mysterious mystery
Of little messages from muses eluding
more than some,
dream messages so mysterious to me
And my father the king of all dreams replies,
"All dreams love, my child whom I adore
are designed from a fine misty mist
As pure as pure and as fine as fine can be
Caught betwixt dimensions of timeless time
and heaven's fine pure line of divinity,
As any fine misty mist is purer than pure
and finer than any of finest sunlight
And like sunlight slips through our grasp
yours and mine my dear you see,
such is our dreams and such is time,"
says father, "betwixt reality and infinity
Dreams of every origin and means my child
dreams of light and dreams of darkness
are spun only by mysterious dream weaver
Dreams are yours and dreams are mine
dreams are everyones"
And so contemplatively, i inquire of father,
"father, now i'm more puzzled than ever,
how does dream weaver spin so many dreams?"
And father replies, "an interesting question,
my child, and one I must ask dream weaver"
and still i am puzzled