For in the seamless fabric of our dreams
we walk between real and imagined life
prescient when we wake our senses stream
to the horary poverty of strife;
but our soul created by spirit mind
its beacon shines throughout our earthly shell
within our dreams it flies traversing time
and gleams the truth above this worldly spell.
Consciousness of self, the eternal spark,
has given meaning to the void of dark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem