My weary eyes to bed I sleep.
So much void and darkness I feared the worse.
Suddenly creeping into my sleepy head,
My thoughts, my contemplation while awake.
Dancing and calling out to me,
Pulling me from one scene to the other.
My dreams, my dreams what stories are you telling this time.
An illusion or reality I fear I may never know.
Sometimes I am conscious, other times I am not.
But when I awake and remember,
That my thoughts invaded my privacy, I am convinced I invited them.
Dear dreamer, what stories are you telling this time,
About another you saw in your dreams.
Hush now, for you tell your own story,
For a man is known always by his dreams.
© Sebastian Enukorah..