When sunset glitters
in an eye across a soul,
ocean's waves impart a song to see.
And for every wave that touches the shore,
and for every grain that became sand,
and for every light's magic,
we see their music.
Adjacent to an aroma of the flowers
are the charismatic flavors of a dance
so the taste of life imbues our perceptions
and water falls like feathers
that silently crash upon us.
A quickening breath spent catching dreams,
not realizing we were awake,
running from monsters that we found to be teddy bears
because we are now the dream's master.
We know now that it was never a dream,
it was real all along.
To fly in a dream is easy.
Here,
not in our minds,
not in our daydreams,
but in our *real* lives,
it was impossible to know it was not a dream,
for we are still flying . . .