Some thoughts of contemplation come over me.
And as I sit back and wonder and dream,
There are images and hopes,
Colors of sapphire and emeralds,
All swirling in a mist of gray.

A pale castle rises out of mists,
And the towers reach to the heavens.
No pennants flutter and I wonder,
What gods or men built this?
But nothing is silent and the stones
Sing to the air, the earth, the fires.

Closer and closer to the pale stones that sing,
My spirit hovers over the fires that burn in the walls,
Shadows dance on shadows,
And scones or torchlight illuminate the depths.

As the fires grow more frequent,
The stones grow more raptous in the lament,
The air vibrates, the earth quails.
What choice but to continue onward?

And opening up before me is the sky,
Mists below, and the grey, emerald, and sapphire tapestry
Of the air plays in a twist of imagination.
Gryphens circle, and dragons swoop,
My mind reels and I find myself soaring with demons,
Angels and hopes.

The colors part as I climb higher with my friends,
And they cheer and whoop as I breach their prison,
On a unicorn with a ruby horn a woman waits,
Her arm outstretched, and her eyes alight,
With patience and beauty she watches for my ascent.

With the hopes of the smoke and the choir of stones,
I draw a strength born of purity and imagination
And surmount the barrier grasping her hand,
And letting her lead me to happiness,
Joy, and those things which in dreams are
Possible.

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