In that which ever gives birth to reality
My need to raise my eyes to skies is found.
With each exchange of crystal mentality
My soul dissolves to magnificent surround.
In that which lives long before I say a word
I find sublimity of most surreal kinds
Sighs caused by morbid destruction I have heard--
Each castle is rebuilt by wittiest minds.
Time and again dreams have found no proper death.
In imagination the mind oft employs,
True that noble hearts and souls form a great set!
Illusions bestow lies upon the bare thought
True that dreams are only two in their real kind
One joins reality, other's fulfilled not.
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