echo...
sleep...
Upon the race
Against grains of time,
Before the thought
To form the rhyme,
Between the tween
As things sublime,
Within the grace
Of his Divine.
In everest dream
Do dare I climb,
When in the real
Does mock the mime,
The impossible not
The summit doesn't rime,
But instead holds waters
Of the ocean's brine.
A dream does pass,
As the flowing grains stime,
A beautious sight
To fill this rhyme,
As light and ice,
Unite at prime,
To show true good,
To end this dream of mine.
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