a beautiful dream

In the quiet hours of the night,
When the world hushes its breath
And the stars whisper secrets
To the sleeping earth,
There lies a realm where beauty reigns supreme.
It is the kingdom of dreams,
A sanctuary for the purest form of beauty –
Untainted, ethereal, and as fleeting
As the morning dew.

This beauty, it is not of this world;
It is the echo of a distant paradise,
A mirage of perfection that dances
Behind closed eyelids.
In dreams, beauty is the painter
And our minds the canvas,
Each stroke a symphony of colors unseen
By the waking eye,
Each shade a melody unheard
By the waking ear.

Oh, how vividly it blooms
In the gardens of our slumber!
The roses of desire,
The lilies of hope,
The violets of passion –
All basking in the moon's gentle glow.
In dreams, beauty is not bound
By the chains of reality.
It is free, it is wild,
It is everything we yearn for but cannot grasp.

Behold the beauty of a dream!
It is the lover's tender kiss,
The poet's muse, the artist's vision.
It is the fleeting moment of perfection
That we chase, knowing all too well
That it will dissolve at dawn's first light.

But as the sun breaches the horizon,
As the world stirs from its slumber,
The beauty fades.
It vanishes like mist in the morning air,
Leaving behind only the faintest trace
In our memory.
We awaken to a world less colorful,
Less vibrant, less alive.

Yet, we must not despair.
For in the heart of every dreamer
Lies the power to recall that beauty,
To hold it close, to let it inspire
Our waking hours.
Though it may vanish with the morning light,
The beauty of a dream lingers on in the soul,
A beacon of what could be,
What should be, what must be.

And so, we dream.
We dream not to escape life,
But to find life in our escape.
For in dreams, we touch the beauty
That is too pure for the waking world,
And we carry its essence within us, always.