My dreams are full of vibrantly coloured silk and masks
That conceal the faces beneath, wreaths them in mysterious glory;
I walk through dimly lit corridors illumined by golden candelabras
Hearing whispered voices and silent footsteps ‘round every corner.

Then a quiet forest all around me in the silver light of a moon
Crowns stretching up towards the heavens in a desperate plea,
Strange birds regard me with their black eyes from bare branches;
The mist swirls around me feet and a twig snaps behind me.

Sometimes it is a wonder that I wake from my slumber,
The images are so vivid that they seem more real than life itself
And at times infinitely more pleasurable and preferable
Than the dreary greyness of everyday life and loss.

But when my dreams are dark and dreadful
Then it is truly a blessing to awake and discover it to be
Nothing more than a horrible dream,
Chased away by the gentle touch of a morning sun’s rays.