Dreams Linger
Sol slowly rises, as virgin flames paint
the horizon, a blaze of burnt orange.
And beams of sunlight pierce slumbering eyes;
inking a kaleidoscope of dust motes.
Magic exists between dream and awake:
manifesting as pulsating colors.
And reality seems intangible;
reduced to abstracts on a field of black.
Darkness retreats, at the approach of Dawn:
while Sol ascends, as master of the sky.
And yet we are forced to avert our eyes,
for the sun is too bright to gaze upon.
For a second, time is held motionless,
while dreamers linger in sleep’s fantasy.
And, as we awake to daylight's rebirth,
Sol’s golden beams gild the horizon's edge.
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