It's not an awful thing to be labeled as a dreamer. I walk among the clouds in great strides and slip through the holes in the ceiling daily...
For here is where we glide,
dreaming above all strife.
Endangered dichotomy mixed
with love and angst transfix
on knowing above all else
the poignant search of self.
"Lost souls" they call us,
feverishly seeking for what
beckons our heart's name,
an illusion of undying flame.
Guiding a twisted, aged path
we celebrate love's hopeful wrath.
Awakening to a soul's kiss
dreams beget beautiful bliss.
A moniker proudly written
for kindred souls desperately driven,
forever in the journey of a quest,
true...
soley...
...to the beat in our chest.
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