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Perchance To Dream

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Of what substance do our dreams consist?
Perhaps the mumbles of memories long gone
Rise with the setting of the sun
And gather in sleeping minds like mist.
Our nightly adventures seem to insist
That we are too timid before day is done
To accomplish thoughts that linger on
Until we fall into that blissful abyss.
But under the blanket of sleep
Our souls may find sanctuary
And the fulfillment of daylight reveries.
Our dreams many secrets keep
And many hopes wake with nary
A thought of impossibilities.





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