Into the stratosphere, bright as a Roman candle,
the Dreamer will ascend into the indefinite,
risking that his lungs might burst, he might be
rendered weightless jetsam in an idle sea of endless sky.
None of it matters if the answers do here reside...
And they do, though always - it seems - on the other side.
The truth warms his fingers but never lands
as tangible matter in his eager hands.
Patiently the Skeptic hold tight to the string,
his unswaying anchor to substantial reality;
Silver pin at the ready to deflate the dream
but his convictions are not as air, not disarmed so easily.
She watches now as slowly he goes, leaving her again alone
to bear the burden of answering for not one, but two souls.
Yet as her eyes now strain as he travels far,
his beliefs assure her that it's him she sees, not a star.
She will pull him crashing back to earth and life
not believing what he's seen, but believing that he sees.
Their strengths are equal to the scars they bear
but his fears are stronger than both of them.
In the subjective fluid of reality, each has a role:
The Skeptic enforces what the Dreamer revokes.
She'll cast the light for the shadows he'll chase,
because without his dreams, her doubts have no place.