In the midst of amity
There I find illusion;
My loyalty doubts me,
As I come through dream

There I assure my heart,
My zeal towards them;
But such fear cramps me,
If I am the man of disguise

I won’t let myself to act,
Such fangs of deception
That can grim my gloss
And bring woes to my life

My heart raining red,
In the guilt of sins,
I tend to offend
Under their mystery

The tales of quietude
Told by fervor of dreams;
That fervor, but my epilepsy
As heresy seems to be piety


Whether dreams and truth merge
Let my heart contrast;
Where ire of mystery twirls,
The vague truth, it will find

In search of an oneirocritic,
My dread heart lost;
Seeking answer of the mystery,
‘If dreams are sweet nightmares’

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