Monday, September 7

Don't follow your dreams. Chase Them.

In the early morning a whisper comes to me

A love so pure and tender beckoning to me

come hither say the voices crying out in dreams.

Abandon inhibitions come to the angels' den

Where desire mixed with feeling

and the golden light of love is sprinkled

as a perfume throughout the holy air.

Where is this poignant perfume

that permeates the air? Breathe deeply

the forgotten dream it is everywhere.