My dreams must be waiting
Across the distant horizon
To be realized, to be born,
To be free in a world
Where illusions forever die
And become nothing but vague sadness.

My place of peace must exist
In the endless cornflower sky--
A haven of serenity, of tranquility,
Of sweet, untouched silence:
The mirage of archaic legend
That indulges in the drifting sanity.

My crystal heart must believe
Fragments of thoughts still breathe,
Living in diamond wind, in golden sun,
In ivory of the misting clouds;
Such is the wistful wish of the shadow,
But the truth of the madness lies.

My happiness must possess laughter
That mocks the dying glimmer:
Jewel of the past, of crumbling present,
Of the fated future darkness,
Residing within the soul of the heavens,
Foreseen by ethereal prophet of kismet.

My empty purpose must be a fool
To be led astray by musing folly,
Wandering into mystery, into secrecy,
Into the waters of black oblivion,
Itinerant between the realms of turmoil--
A psyche of the eternal lunacy.