These dreams fade as westerly whispers,
in a soft eastern rain.
Unremembered by morning's light
filtered by reality's coldness,
leaving only colored shadows,
we must walk alone through.

Shadows that sullenly settle
like colored chalk dust,
covering all,
but easily blown away.
These dreams fade as westerly whispers,
in a soft eastern rain.

We are the dreamtesters,
recorders of our life's events
to be read by God.

Upon our day of reckoning...