Upon the sea of dream I, a castaway, clinging to driftwood, watched the rising sun. I did not think I’d live to see again that light. Every last tear shed by every lost soul are pooled within this phantom world, and the hope of every newly drawn breath is in that blaze of white glory!
The storm had tossed and wrecked my ship, but I dreamed again when I saw the dawn. Even this thing of driftwood, I could dream of it a hull.
A fresh wind is blowing. I must imagine a sail. I weave my prayers like fine spider’s silk, and the Spirit carries me on again to unknown adventure. I tremble with fear, but the sun is bringing me warmth again.
Tale Told 