Lost in Beautiful Dreams

I dream about the mountains, the meadows, and the streams,
Their depth makes it hard for me to draw a distinction between reality and dreams,
We’ve been here long enough to see how these miracles work,
Sometimes there’s a peak, with a storm in the cirque,
Other times there’s the sun, lighting up this earth full of life,
Yet other times, it’s lifelessness and vastness perhaps seem rife,
The more you try to conquer it in memory for you to go back to,
The more it slips away, knowing very well what you ought to do,
Well isn’t life supposed to take you places you to want to or have to see?
It’s really not memories or imagination but the present where I’ve to be.

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