Surely, I have been dreaming.
Which way is west?
Which is east?
All I see is the sun on the horizon.
Does it rise, or does it fall?
Say it rises:
What glory awaits when that red turns to blue?
We shall see the ocean from the height of the hills,
And beauty in a blade of grass,
And dance and sing and play
As lovers smell roses in the garden.
Say it falls,
And all turns to dark.
What glories still await.
A canopy of stars, swirling in the cool of the moon,
Shall sit atop the madness of our night –
A madness of laughter in the forest
As friends join hands to walk toward the return of the dawn.
The sun still hangs on the horizon,
Neither ending nor beginning -Simply a herald of whichever glory is to come.