dreams are held here

As my choice has laid my rest

And my thoughts compete

My mind says let it be

And my soul unruly protests

Am I selfish, am I unkind

The means to great to justify

That my spirit feels dead;

And yet soon I realize

That I have control

I am the poet of my pages

The master of my design,

As I pick myself up from my ruin

And clean my wound once again

for it is a brand new day

and life is the axis of my dreams

the hours crept

The eaves of the night sky

Glow lightly as the sun resides

Behind the roaring hills

Darkness sets upon the fields

As the night will not yield

And so it deepens in indigo

The absence of light has commenced

thus now my soul feels at home

for I have no nocturnal trepidation

only a deep and reverent adoration