As long as a particular soul remembers,
As long as a single heart still beats with passion,
How can a dream die?
And with the dream
the memory lives on,
For only an inkling
within a twilight
a shadow bares a thought,
Could it be the dreamer lives only...
in a fantasy?
Or could it be that the reality is too much to bare?
For only in a familiar to time
a spell is cast
to touch that hallucinatory moment
whethered in an illusion
enticed in an alteration of reality,
Spoken only in dreams.
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