Dream Weaver

 

There is a phantom world, of make believe 

Of idyll reveries, mayhap, a realm to breathe

Where the sun never sets, over open water 

And the days grow long, but never shorter 

There is no afterlife, in this subliminal space 

No nightmare will linger, and try to displace

For this is a sanctuary, that harbours the soul

And, unlike an ocean haze, it's under control 

There maybe leviathans, of an abyssal adulator 

Or sirens, beckoning, an exploratory navigator

For minds, in slumber, can be a focused force

Manipulated, or directed, on a chosen course 

It's the ultimate escape, on a steerable track 

Sailing into windward, on an improbable tack 

And if all is becalmed, the oneironaut, will stay

Where the sunset's a guest, to behold, or delay

There are oceans, and seas, for every believer

To be sailed on, forever, by any dream weaver 

They're there, somewhere, in a subliminal wake

Afar from the shore, where monsters might sate