An old man on the shore with a dreamy look in his eyes
walked up to me while staring at the skies,
and said "life is but a dream, reality unreal."
And as I listened calmly, my mind began to fill
with wondrous images drawn up from his past
memories of life, both happy and sad.
And while listening to him speak, I soon heard
the sound of my own name, spoken in his words.
And woven in his tapestry, the whole story of my life;
my strength, my pain, my happiness, my strife.
The clarity of my future, the forgetfulnes of past,
an undying truth that my time had gone too fast.
And as the old man spoke on, I realized he was right. . .
Life but a dream, afloat in the night