Maybe I’m dreaming—
For the sky is not what it seems,
but a mirror of the soul’s longing.
Each star, a whisper of forgotten time,
each breath, a pulse of the eternal
passing through this fragile body.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
For time bends like light through water,
its edges soft and shifting,
its moments fleeting,
yet everything within it
is infinite, unspoken.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
For what is the world
but a flicker in the eye of the cosmos?
A wave in the vastness of the unseen,
where every echo carries
the weight of all that was,
and all that will be.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
And in this dream, I have touched eternity,
walked the halls of silence,
where shadows have no names
and the heart knows no fear,
only the soft pull of truth,
the gentle force that moves us
back to the source.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
Or maybe this is the only truth,
that all is but a breath,
a fleeting thought in the mind of the universe,
and we are but the dreamers,
dreaming the dream of what we are.
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 2:41 PM UTC
Maybe I’m dreaming—
For the sky is not what it seems,
but a mirror of the soul’s longing.
Each star, a whisper of forgotten time,
each breath, a pulse of the eternal
passing through this fragile body.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
For time bends like light through water,
its edges soft and shifting,
its moments fleeting,
yet everything within it
is infinite, unspoken.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
For what is the world
but a flicker in the eye of the cosmos?
A wave in the vastness of the unseen,
where every echo carries
the weight of all that was,
and all that will be.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
And in this dream, I have touched eternity,
walked the halls of silence,
where shadows have no names
and the heart knows no fear,
only the soft pull of truth,
the gentle force that moves us
back to the source.
Maybe I’m dreaming—
Or maybe this is the only truth,
that all is but a breath,
a fleeting thought in the mind of the universe,
and we are but the dreamers,
dreaming the dream of what we are.
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