The stars I see from my rooftop,
that gleam and twinkle amidst the sky.
They stay at place, their home I'd say,
Is where they were, and truly belong.

The wings I feel, the delicate wings,
of birds that share a profound sound.
They help me dream, as if I'm drowned,
In the thought of being, one amongst them.

The sun sets and rise, the glowing globe,
makes me wonder what it's like,
to be able to set and rise with it,
Up in the sky and down in sea.

My dream is not a void, neither is it an abstract need.
My dream is a closure of my raging thoughts,
knocking on doors to let it be-
A part of my deranged imagination.

It is but, a thought; let free.