Algebra of dreams

And at night, when he slips through the narrow bright corridor made of wishing stars and swirls around the images that dance with me and slowly carry me to the world of my dreams; my eyes will be those of a child, who watches in the greatest amazement the happening of a new colorful story in a place ever so far from my own and of which him and I will once again be part of for a while.
And never does he speaks but words I do not need, for through him, everything I see.
And reason abandons me , when I seek to know how is he to be the recurring subject of my sleep, though certain I am that messages are there for us to read.
And in the morning, when the magic is at ease and by my wake the tale vanishes, a smile I retain, for the secret whispered in vain by the night, shall soon be spoken of by the days to come …

Sophie Parou


Credit: pic by Taenaron

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