Fear is the father
Of all things imagined
Though never accomplished.
Our joy of life forbids us
To spread our wings
And soar into the unknown mystery
Of the land known as dreams.
The thing that separates
The dreamer from his dreams
Is the solemn fear of falling asleep.
Hesitantly through the nights own hours
He fears what has not been
But does not comprehend
What is yet to come.
Blessings to those
Who finds themselves at rest
Even in dreams, they long for
What the heart desires.