across the rift between the realm,
where reality clouds the waters of the dreams,
nothing is as it seems,
yet everything is as it seems,
this place where time has no meaning,
and helpless souls wander for eternity,
in this place everything is upside down,
the sky is brown and dirt is blue,
all the clocks stop waiting for the next dream,
illusion is reality and reality is clean,
where the joyous cries of hope are revealed,
where the sorrowful loss of failures are killed,
where smiles remain smiles forever and always,
where the pen is the master,
and the paper is the servant,
where Love blossoms fully to the highest extent,
where the old swinging tire house contentment,
where you can fall in love and never begin to doubt,
where you can shout and never be heard,
where you can talk about,
this is the place where you can come to terms with yourself,
the place you can express freewill,
and never be persecuted,
where religion is whole not divided into many,
where a Utopian society is real,
this is the place that late at night,
all the poets journey to in they're dreams,
the place where they can turn thought into art,
the place of fantasies free......
by: joshua farmer
6-21-99