He sees, as in a dream,
The mythological time traveler,
Flying by treading moonlight;
High above a city
Tinkling with silver sounds
Concealed like a shadow within the darkness
By gossamer clouds;
Searching for a fragile crystal illusion--
Moonbeam rider
Soaring higher--higher--
Over mountain tops dusted with winter white,
As a sprinkling of sugar on confections,
Glistening white against the grey of evening.
Illusions all,
As the wind through his fingertips,
A purposeful dream--
Soundproofing over cacophony.