Poor World of Dreaming

Its still, before the dark hours,

Still in the middle of a rest thats ours,

From an unknown vision, motion pictures emerge

Starring people found in life pages.

Some smiling,

Others, crying.

Among these are those without friends,

Those with them unleashing their own new trends,

Their feelings conveyed by laughter screams,

Those in agony, heard by horror shrills.

Surprisingly the audience never found its meaning,

Here lives are being crotched, in weaving,

Reflecting the happenings in our lives,

The recordings, the history of recent times.

As the night away fades

Only snores, no noise, no words.

Where it all ends,

When the cool morning breeze encroaches,

As the enlightened day approaches.

It’s no longer the poor world of dreaming,

It’s now the real world worth living.