In the quiet of night, when all fades away,
Dreams weave their whispers in gentle array.
They float like whispers, soft and serene,
Painting worlds where we’ve never been.
Through silver-lit valleys and star-speckled skies,
Beyond the horizon where lost wonder lies,
They drift in colors, vivid and bright,
Carving shadows in the heart of the night.
Dreams speak in riddles, in voices so low,
Unraveling secrets only they know.
They’re the breath of our wishes, unbound and free,
Dancing in silence—a pure reverie.
In their embrace, we find what we seek,
Strength for the strong, hope for the weak.
They’re fragments of truth, hidden and deep,
Moments of magic while we sleep.
So hold them close, these fleeting dreams,
They’re more than whispers, more than beams.
They guide our hearts, our minds, our will,
And linger softly, gentle and still.
