The Desert of Dreams

As I lay down, head resting upon the ground, I cannot help but feel the air around me. The smells that woft on the midnight breeze, the aroma of the flowers in the fields, of the fires of many, who dare to dream. I am a dreamer. As I walk through this desert, I can feel the cold touch of the night air, the stars and the moon light my way to better days. I can hear the voices of those who without thought or recollection tell tales of better days. The dreams of the past have become lost, stranded on a sea of despair. I see the campfires, the sparks fly into the air, caught by the currents, and are carried away. I dream of better times, of a love I can share, of an adventure to unkown lands, of exploring the dreams of those who have been lost. In this desert, I can see the vast waterfalls, great canyons of golden rock, I can see a jungle of rain, a sea of trees washing upon great stones given forth from the earth. The dreams of these people, my kin, are not lost on me. I see their dreams, because they are also mine. I see two lovers in an eternal embrace, lost in eachothers eyes. I Weep. The beauty of the dreams of these people makes my heart ache, for even in this cold, unrelenting desert, there are those who still dare to dream.