Into the day as by dream I swim To the music of nourished meaning.

You ask how it is possible to be your own father and son. You should seek answers although it is better to anticipate some to be the light and dream.

The world is shaped by two things stories told and the memories they leave behind.

A hidden spark of the dream sleeps In the forest and waits In the celestial spheres of the brain.

The world cannot be translated It can only be dreamed of and touched.

Dreams are our only geographyour native land.

When the star dies Its eye closes tired of watching It flies back to its first bright dream.

Fly without wings Dream with open eyes See in darkness.

You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you.