Dreams, my dreams, you are fairies of paradise.
The world will be an empty void, if you were not here.
Without God, without humans, without angels,
Bereft of the sense of purpose, devoid of life force;
Deficient in imagination, of beauty and creative arts
And permeating fragrance, of flowers.
You are the butterflies, bred and brought up by
Nymphs of the yonder, in the palace, of the blue skies,
Built in sapphire stones, and coming as guests;
As honoured guests, into this barren earth
To shower rapture in our hearts, with nectar.
You are opening the doors of my soul, with out
Me knowing it, and painting your pictures
In empty spaces in there, and creating magnificent
Rainbows, of multitudinous colors;
Dissolving them, in the drops of my tears,
And wiping it away, frequently, intermittently...