Incense burns nearby wafting, assaulting me in heady daze
Colors coalesce, shift within vibrant hues
Then blaze then dull to swerve to greys
Noises drift off as I turn into a side street
Cobblestones crumbling lined by stark walls
A faint humming from an open window
Where laundry hangs flapping in the breeze
Even more distant horns beeping, voices call
From the marketplace where vendors and patrons meet
My steps are random, slow and unsure
Thoughts trying to form into a single line
What dark melody in my mind does then bestir
With a single word paramount, a single place lost in doubt
To understand my musings, when the lure of possibility takes hold
How trains of thought are found then lost
How dreams spin in and out
First hear the story then decide
Once upon a time there was a maiden who had a dream
In that dream the maiden is myself, living a few years hence
In a land on the coast of Africa where green valleys drop into the sea
In a white house on a hill above the valley
In a place where the inhabitants speak Portuguese
At night, she hears the rumbling cacophony of voices plaguing outside
Wanders into the moon-filled night; finds no soul but silence and breeze
Daily, a handsome Portuguese man visits, a scholar from the nearby college
They sit together on a wood bench gazing out into the open, empty valley below
One cool night, she opens her window to find him standing there
He beckons her to follow and she comes outside in drowsy trance
They move towards the valley, below she sees men dressed in pale green armor
Shields lifted high, the army points arrowed shafts slipped on thin, hardy bows
In the far distance she sees a temple gleaming white with a dome
The man holds out his hand, so she does not fear the arrows
He leads her slowly down the hill while the phantom troops disappear
Together, they approach the five-sided building
The doors open
Inside golden recesses gleam
She sees everything for an instant
Then she awakes suddenly, becoming me once again
Back to reality and to ponder if it really exists
Pouring over maps, looking for this lost treasure of antiquity
Someday some future me might find
In this or another lifetime
That beautiful palace--the temple of white
To roam amongst ghosts in the pale moonlit night
Colors coalesce, shift within vibrant hues
Then blaze then dull to swerve to greys
Noises drift off as I turn into a side street
Cobblestones crumbling lined by stark walls
A faint humming from an open window
Where laundry hangs flapping in the breeze
Even more distant horns beeping, voices call
From the marketplace where vendors and patrons meet
My steps are random, slow and unsure
Thoughts trying to form into a single line
What dark melody in my mind does then bestir
With a single word paramount, a single place lost in doubt
To understand my musings, when the lure of possibility takes hold
How trains of thought are found then lost
How dreams spin in and out
First hear the story then decide
Once upon a time there was a maiden who had a dream
In that dream the maiden is myself, living a few years hence
In a land on the coast of Africa where green valleys drop into the sea
In a white house on a hill above the valley
In a place where the inhabitants speak Portuguese
At night, she hears the rumbling cacophony of voices plaguing outside
Wanders into the moon-filled night; finds no soul but silence and breeze
Daily, a handsome Portuguese man visits, a scholar from the nearby college
They sit together on a wood bench gazing out into the open, empty valley below
One cool night, she opens her window to find him standing there
He beckons her to follow and she comes outside in drowsy trance
They move towards the valley, below she sees men dressed in pale green armor
Shields lifted high, the army points arrowed shafts slipped on thin, hardy bows
In the far distance she sees a temple gleaming white with a dome
The man holds out his hand, so she does not fear the arrows
He leads her slowly down the hill while the phantom troops disappear
Together, they approach the five-sided building
The doors open
Inside golden recesses gleam
She sees everything for an instant
Then she awakes suddenly, becoming me once again
Back to reality and to ponder if it really exists
Pouring over maps, looking for this lost treasure of antiquity
Someday some future me might find
In this or another lifetime
That beautiful palace--the temple of white
To roam amongst ghosts in the pale moonlit night
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