My eyes are closed,
Yet I can see
Visions of days gone by
Mingling with moments
That are yet to be.

Is it precious jewels
From time's treasure chest,
Or Pandora's box
Waiting for the joke on me?

I hear the sounds
Of voices that
Call to me,
Echoing down
The paths of yesterday.

Can I answer?
Will they hear me?
In those moments
Before sleep makes its claim,
Are the rules of
Time and space
Blissfully suspended?

Maybe the scenes and voices
Are images of
Another place and time;
Where all will be made right
That once had gone so wrong;
Where all mistakes
Have never been,
Where all the dreams
Can start again.

The way it all
Was really meant to be.

Right before sleep
Makes its claim,
The truth is
Momentarily revealed.