|Image Source, through Google Images|
I paint the world in the corridors of my imagination;
at my fingertips, no one can thrust any limitations,
no threads can make me feel like just a dull puppet,
not an insomniac, counting sheep with each yawn,
no mirrors exist that can show me false reflections,
no race where failure to win vanishes the yearning;
the verve of my muse strengthens my further steps.
dreams are but omens, good signs of your desires,
let light shine through it; bring out its raw colors,
dreams are but opals; iridescent in the brightness.
© Leo (22nd September, 2011)