Long aeons past our dreaming minds awoke to conscious light,
lit blazing beacons in the night,
drove out the fear, wild beasts and dark...
and with them, too, our dreams took flight.
And still, untamed, these sleepless spirits course and run
from dusk until the dawning sun
unravels all our dreaming fears.
Awake, the hunt is far from done.
In ordered lives the wilderness inside us softly calls;
a feral wolf pacing the halls
of memory.
It spurs us on.
With abstract longing, weakness falls,
and we are freed to soaring flight above our petty lives.
Escaping from drear human hives
we live at last, our souls complete
until the dreaming's end arrives.