The Inner Sky

In realms where dreams and shadows play,
A spiritual body, light as day,
Departed once from fleshly form,
To wander through an imagined storm.

In this state of ether, free and bright,
It danced with visions through the night,
But time, a weaver, spun its thread,
And called the spirit back to bed.

From the heights of fantasyā€™s crest,
To the mundane world, it was addressed,
A journey back, not void of grace,
But linked by an invisible trace.

This bridge of incident, unseen,
Wove reality with dreamā€™s sheen,
Each step a memory, a spark,
Connecting realms, like light through dark.

The spirit, now in flesh confined,
Yet carries echoes of the mind,
Where once it soared in boundless flight,
Now tethered by the bridge of night.

In every laugh, in every tear,
Fragments of that journey appear,
A silent song, a whispered tale,
Of how the spirit did prevail.

So live we all with dual sight,
Bound by day, by night set flight,
The bridge remains, a subtle link,
Between the real and what we think.

Originally published on Medium