Dreams

I walk at night, not with feet in my blanket, not with eyes shut,
but with my tethered soul, wandering through spaces in time.
I don't know what realm we go to, as we cross from here to there,
the place where reality is superimposed only that we can relate.

They say we can't dream of people we've never seen,
does it apply for the places we've never been?
Sometimes I go to places that I have always thought of,
places unseen and unheard, but not unknown to me.

Can you dream of the voice of someone you've never met?
Or how they smile and look at you? I don't think so.
Yet, in my dreams I see and meet people who I've only seen pictures,
and they smile and they greet, their voices is it real?

But something tells me that voices don't come from throats,
that voices are only needed between two who need language.
These people, they don't speak through such rough modes,
their hearts connect and they reveal what is in theirs, yes.

If dreams were bright metal, these would be just a sliver,
while the rest like pebbles in a river, either dull or beautiful.
Then there's the occasional pebble, black, sharp and painful.
In the end, they're all pebbles for me to leave a path, to walk.

Back to my body.