Time Spent Dreaming

I think we all have that feeling
From time to lonely time
Of longing for a world- a life that isn’t yours;
Isn’t mine

Sometimes I play a game
Or hear a song
That echoes yonder through my head the whole night long,
Siren’s call cascading til the crack of dawn

Waves upon waves upon waves
Drown me slowly
In twirling visions of worlds that aren’t mine- of pure fantasy
Longing so sharp elicits images light and misty

I sometimes believe I’m too otherworldly-minded
To really be any earthly good
My mind’s pages written in some obscure language not yet understood
Jaded faith in the minds whom devised the worlds I once called good

I suppose in a way we’re all searching for a world that doesn’t exist
Our minds and our maps drawn in ink-filled mist
Formatting lands to fit our careful checklists
Lands full of light, air, and only slight misery

Dreaming the day away about worlds we’re unsure we could live inside
With nebulous people we could never thrive alongside
Because they aren’t really there
Only wishful mirages formed by night air

Yet still we lie dreaming
Yet still I’m drawn in
By a place I’ve not been to
By a life that’s not
By a life that will never be

One I can,
in time, call
“mine”.