• "In a Wonderland they lie,"
    Totally convinced of their superiority
    And yet obsessed by their inferiority
    As we scurry about, clueless,
    Helpless,
    "Dreaming as the days go by,"
    As time escapes all of us;
    Because as we live in the space between moments
    We lose sight of all that is around us,
    In our own prefabricated worlds,
    "Dreaming as the summers die;"
    So we retreat to the mundane,
    The ordinary, the usual,
    Wanting to reject it
    But hopelessly out of control,
    "Ever drifting down the stream--"
    The stream of life, time, fate, whatever
    The stream that takes us all on different journeys
    And though we can control our path
    We still gaze and wonder around us,
    “Lingering in the golden gleam--”
    Asking if there is a purpose for it all,
    But all our journeys end the same, like a book,
    And our memories fill the book of life,
    Painting pictures like dreams, but still we wonder,
    “Life, what is it but a dream?"