To Dream
[by Dr.Who3]
To ride
the winged
steed of dreams,
holding on to
love's pale mane
and watching
endless night
pass below the hooves
as eternity swallows us all.
Withal, to touch
the face,
the lips,
the very heart of dreams,
and know that magic lives.
It's Almost Tomorrow
[by Dr.Who3]
It's almost midnight.
We are so close
to tomorrow
I feel as if I can
see across
the line of time and space
to view the new day
it in all it's splendor. . . . .
and I know that someday,
I will be
on this mountaintop
looking over into tomorrow
but unable to cross
and so will be left behind
to sleep in the solitude
awaiting the past.
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The Stars Cried Not
[by Dr.Who3]
The single point of light
stood alone,
far out
on the black
edge of eternity
waiting. . .waiting. . .waiting
for an answering spark,
an understanding spirit
from across the void
of life's dull repetition;
light drawing light
into one great flame
for a brief instant
before flickering
out of existence
in that moment
between heartbeats,
when the world
isn't looking,
to appear again
somewhen else,
another rhyme,
another dusty tome,
another lonely light
looking for a home. . . . .
and the stars cried not.
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