In the House of Dreams

At night, the world softens—
shadows stretch,
the stars breathe in quiet rhythm.

Behind closed eyes,
a door creaks open—
to fields unbound by time,
to skies that burn with impossible hues,
to voices half-remembered
from places never seen.

We fly without wings,
speak without words,
become both seeker and found.

In this house of dreams,
the heart remembers
what the mind forgets—
hopes folded in the corners of sleep,
waiting for morning’s light
to unfold them again.