(Written with my friend Malila, in a writing game where each person writes a line, taking turns.)

And the world turns
as I drift to sleep,
into the land
of sacred silence and slumber,
where the world
was innocent, and the sun
still warm on my back.

Where peace reigned
and flowers bloomed,
and everything seemed possible,
no matter how great the feat.

And yet the world turns
as I wander off to dreamland,
revolving once again
around a cruel reality.