Good Night

What dreams may come. When we sleep we let our imaginations sore above any preconceived notions of reality or understanding. Like smoke finally flowing through the crowl, such are our thoughts when we enter into another dimension beneath closed eyelids. And when day breaks, our dreams so quickly lost like the bloom of a spring flower left to the follies of fall, we are left to make our dreams our own, our truth, we are left to make our dreams, as best as we know how, part of our own reality.