As I sleep I breathe in a dreamer’s dream
To seek rapture in uncharted pathways
And make pilgrimage to the forest of Arden
Against the wits of winter’s end
And find solace in the golden world.
Here, I am guided like the ink written on a blank page
Driven by the hand that holds the pen.
Eyes open at the first dawn of today
And grey mist holds the sun’s rays to ransom;
Suspending breath across the world’s stage.


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