The Ivory Gate Of Dreams

I. Innocence

Instrumental

II. Cold Daze

The coldness of confusion
hangs in the morning air as
Brazen bells ring reality to
announce the conqueror dawn.

Removed from nights fleeting trance,
plunged headlong into cold days
where in a circle we wander the
barren wastes of our pasts.

III. Daylight Dreamers

Daylight dreamers awaken on
deserts of desperation,
lonely lives learn to live on
islands of isolation.

Surrounded by violent oceans
of hate and hopeless sorrows.
Daylight dreamers envision tranquil
seas in safe tomorrows.

Dreaming through the darkened
dayalong tempest torn strands.
Desperately grasping the grains
of hope that flit through our hands.

As they fall we tighten our hold
while the waves claim the final few.
Taken without ceremony they
drift out of view.

Washed away
with the tides of time,
slipped through our
fingers as dreams do.

IV. Quietus

From sleeping visions daily were torn,
in waking hours hopes are forlorn.
Is all we do and all we dream doomed
to drown in a hopeless stream?

Wishing life were made of lasting
visions in eternal sleep,
and if that rest were filled with
sorrow still we'd sleep.

In the madness of a silent
eternity we'd find solace in
false visions that protect
us from reality.

Enter ivory gates through midnight skies,
daylight dreamers in private parades
perform before perpetual dawn as dusk
engulfs the gate of horn.

Ivory towers appear beyond the gate,
invisible fortresses of escape.
Traversed by ramparts made of hopes
and fears, impervious to reality.

V. Ivory Tower

Behind sullen doors, untouched within,
sale from summer storms and winter winds.
Relentless tempests can weaken walls,
towers falter when reality calls.

Untouchable by all without,
lost in the silken web youth may weave.
Tangled threads seem a stronghold
but illusions can deceive.

A cold daze plagues the air
driven by aging winds.
The walls give way to the rush
and let reality in.

VI. Whispers on the Wind

Misty morning
on windswept plain,
embers of a fortress
all that remain.

The seeds of life that burned within
have flown like whispers on the wind.
And from the sleepers world I look
toward darkening skies.

Through the violet
haze of summer storms
the sun leaves tired eyes.

VII. Acquiescence

Betrayed by innocence, deceived by delusions,
plagiarized promises, pale into empty hopes.
Ivory towers bow down in reverence to daylight
as dreamers awaken in sleepers somber shade.

Ocean waves shift, leaving only memories,
final traces of hope are swallowed in the deep.
Despair sends a certain calm, a vague sense of relief,
released from all our longings silently we'll sleep.

Hope leads to quiet desperation
when reality obscures the dream,
makes the mind a grave of memories
that wander like the lonely breeze.

Whose whispers echo
through ruins rust of towers
torn and dreams turned to dust.

VIII. Retrospect

Instrumental