come to me in your dream
i may not be what i seem
a lad of light and chivalry
or a devil bred from mockery
perhaps a fairy full of glossy glen
aged dragon grown in a mountain den
angelic essence high above the clouds
the shiekh who rules the arid land
the thief who sneaks by deaths own door
the prisoner who is kept below the floor.
I may be all these things indeed,
or nothing but the forgotten mist
left behind by a memory's gist
whatever form i take for thee
just don't forget it is still me.