• As I stare at the celing trying to focus on the lost...
    On the lonely...
    On something long forgotten.
    The images flow in and out.
    Playing like an old movie
    with an old reel.
    They feel so familiar.
    So real...
    When I think of him,
    they come in stronger.
    When I think I got the answer,
    it slips out of my grasp.
    When I look to him,
    I see the possiblity that he holds the truth.
    Why can't I get all these dreams?
    Why does it feel like reality?
    Will he help?
    Can he help?
    Or am I dreaming dreams?