Winged Horses

Winged Horses

When journeying through some mystical forest,

One discovers exotic animals, perhaps winged horses.

Their presence quite disturbing but graceful,

Spin tales of flying heavenward so peacefully.

When experiencing some whimsical thought,

Late night’s apparition makes one distraught.

Unafraid into these dimensions I’ve traveled,

More times than I can count, dreams to unravel.

Serpentine-like the roads twist and turn,

Uncovering illusions of danger, causing concern.

But like all the other times I’ve ventured here,

I always discover that there is nothing to fear.

Conjuring images, a sleeping mind still awake,

In bed covers surrounding me, that’s no mistake.

Clutching my pillow, eyes closed to this world,

As I awaken, other realities within me swirl.

To dream every night of being alive evermore,

Dreams within dreams, letting my imagination soar.

Worlds upon worlds this sleeping state provides,

A look into another place, whether to visit I decide.

Pinched between decisions, a choice I must make,

To whether I continue in these dreams of which I partake.

Walking or flying or crawling along in each one,

I sometimes feel as though there is more to come.

Three levels in while dreaming, it’s often been said,

I awake within the dream, these imagines in my head.

This is only a dream, and I can get out,

Opening my eyes, I walk away from my hideout.

Tonight, I’ll dream again as I do every night,

My spirit, my imagination will take flight.

But one thing I’ve learned ‘ore the years I’ve traveled,

I can always remember the roads and adventures unraveled.