a dream is a half-formed life-form

I am not sure or can't remember
if it was a dream or not.
Even my hands cannot recall
the shape of my eyes as they are expecting to see in the dark.
I don't remember why I cried,
maybe just for my sins. I know this like you know
certain things
when dreaming
without any notice.

Or I created them and then I began to realize that I actually know them
like the ideas that become stars on the top of my brain now,
starry sky inside my skull
when they are sanctified.

What kind of dream are you if my mind
is not your opened eye?
What kind of eye am I
if you are not a ray of light decayed from within the iris?

You should know that ' blood is keeping us warm,
the bones together and the dreams alone.
You should be wiser, you should know.
From so much dreaming
I became foggy,
I have heard your calling and the sound came slowly through water
or it was formed in one of the caves of your soul
we did not explore yet,
like a dead mother is calling her child from Beyond,
like you crossfade the last sounds when waking up
from a godly vision (wooop!).

In my dream, you fall. You die. You don't come back.
I still don't know if I buried you or not.
I am not sure or can't remember
if it was a dream or not.

Can't tell the difference between dream and reality,
we were all born sleeping.