Nocturnal thoughts gather and huddle by the fire in which dreams are born. The night is dark, yet brings blessed sleep. It was an idea that ignited the bonfire with flames dancing into the deep sky above, an idea so profound that huddling thoughts push and shove.
Waves of heat warm weary old bones, heat seeping into the core. Old Forest ablaze, burning not with fire but with zeal, through conviction – an idea turned real.
The Dreamer stirs, heralding dawn, and the fabric of dreams begin to unravel, but before the awakening the dreamer much further must travel. So before I wake, hearken to a dreamer’s beckoning call and join me in the fire’s warmth.