Here I sit, staring blankly at the horizon, blind to the view before me
My mind in a different place, a different plain all together
My soul torn open wide, bare to the world around
This foreign place, this other world, this dream of hope and sorrow
Chaos, love, passion and pain, all laid out before me
Which prison do I choose, which sentence do I bear
This landscape is not real, this vision but a specter
Mine eyes see what I have created, nothing more, nothing more
This fleeting image, this other world, this dream of my creation
May come to pass, or disappear, like so many past
Lost to the graveyard of childhood dreams, the fabled land of OZ
Where men behind curtains prey on trust and promise the impossible
Here I sit, here I dream in this world beyond space and time
Free to do, free to choose, perched on this throne of my creation
Reigning over this sovereign land, the Lord of my domain
And here I'll sit, here I'll stay, wide awake and dreaming
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem