It billows like the clouds on the horizon,
an ancient missive rallying through the sky;
Content to find its way to earthen dwellers;
and touch the sacred soil before our eyes.

Often, I'm reminded of a childhood dream,
that cast a promise through the years ahead;
When leaves protected lands like holy feathers,
erasing fears now ripped apart in threads.

This very potent dream brought vast illusions,
of stars which carried purpose through the night;
Eloquence became the wondrous centerpiece,
adorned in fashion's rainbow at the site.

Still reminded of the moments when it rained,
while grabbing hold of lessons taunting me;
Yet somehow 'springs of summer' cast a light,
beyond the image of the emerald sea.

This vision foretold to me engaged my mind,
in captivating blooms from sunny meadows;
And if I ever wandered far from home,
this dream would always find me in the shadows.