The Dreamer

rude alarm rings through the darkest night,
It rouses me from magic places roamed,
I slowly stretch and look to the starlight
Unable to shake loose the lost dream’s tone.

Still deep in thought I linger by the hour
And move distracted through the morning’s turns
Entranced, I search within for latent pow’r
While fickle inspiration sparks and burns.

My life is full, I play my roles with heart,
But all the while I live inside my head,
My spirit roams between the moon and stars,
I follow trails of fantasies untread.

I soar, I feel alive, as I create,
So I embrace my two divided states.

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18 thoughts on “The Dreamer

  1. “fickle inspiration sparks and burns”–wonderful. I identified so strongly with the message here, expressed so beautifully, thank you.

    • Thank you, Jenn. You know how much of a struggle this was for me (I still have the other 5 partial ones!) so I’m delighted to hear that you enjoyed it. I’m going over to read yours now…

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