I enter through an unknown door, a room just made for me,
no other can accompany me, there is no room for thee.
It is a pale and misty place as if I'm in a dream.
I come and go just as I please, this room of mystery.
The windows are upon my soul, a lock without a key.
The door is never open here, no hinge or knob you see.
Its closed to you, its closed to all, no one allowed but me.
The room appears to be a cube, but just inside a maze.
Endless corridors of unused paths hidden in the haze.
I have to journey every path from earth up to the stars.
There, the cradle where I slept and searched the milky way.
A book of dreams, all tattered now and in that corner lay.
Dreams, thoughts, like surging waves on distant shores,
break quietly, in drops on rippling ponds, upon the moors.
Memory book passage on the in flowing current of my mind,
lost and treasured moments cry out with each perceptive find.
While soundless screams and silent cheers vibrate in my ears.
Memories filled with tears, fears and spots upon the wall,
etched in burning fevers and nightmares of a never ending fall.
Dreams, once hot like molten steel, cool to rock in a lava bed,
hidden in rumpled pillows, sheets and blankets upon my head.