Leave, for what you may see,
may not necessarily be pretty;
before all the fragments of your lingering dream,
crumple and fall under your feet.
Leave, for what you know,
may not be the whole truth;
before the fabric of your everyday,
falls victim and succumbs to the pressures of practicality.
Leave, for this dream that you hold,
may not come alive or breathe ever at all;
before the halo of the moon that you see,
gets completely covered with midnight clouds.
may not necessarily be pretty;
before all the fragments of your lingering dream,
crumple and fall under your feet.
Leave, for what you know,
may not be the whole truth;
before the fabric of your everyday,
falls victim and succumbs to the pressures of practicality.
Leave, for this dream that you hold,
may not come alive or breathe ever at all;
before the halo of the moon that you see,
gets completely covered with midnight clouds.
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