Ethereal, Pneumatic Reverie

Steaming through the constancy
titubation at rest
and gliding in humbly.
Gathering the tiny stones
walked over the jejune centuries
I made up, imagined,
but passionately.
And they were my dreams
Ethereal, pneumatic reveries
bequeathed to the truly venerated, hopeful world
that was different and higher than I could reach.
But it's coming to the close
of a drawn-out, naive day
and those that I dreamt quietly, ever so peacefully
slip away...
Still it infects me, draws blood away
that you won't be there
further up that road my someday.
But I pass quietly,
giving wide, sweet words
of what I wish away from me.
...and close my eyes
and pretend for a while
that the image inside
is giving back a whisper and a smile.
I'll pass silently,
the light, that lit a world for only me
and still dream.
oh yes, I'll still dream
for you and for me,
that in some way
the crooked world
may one day set our foreign hearts free.