I have never dared to speak

In first person at such ease

But as I am your hostess in this
You will now talk straight to me

A whole journey I've been through

Introspectively writing this book
Since two is one and one is two
Into this voyage, I bring you

Poetry gives life to my life

Dreams of day - dreams of night
Once all for me is a mood, now I
Ponder as I play with the rhymes

Speaking of which, rhymes turn on

My wit, reality and far beyond
Old fears of my yore come undone
As I dance with words and rhyme along

I invite you to enter the maze

You'll find me along these pages
Though you won't be able to see my face
Shaped in stanzas my mien takes place

In the mood of a nib in a cosy café

Typewriter clacks in a time and space
Where there are no more days or nights
Sun and moon in love collide

So do my reverie and I

*****

What you call dream, I see as realistic movies. At least, mine are so real that I got to think I
travel while I sleep. I can go from tropic to arctic, from Empyrean to Asgard, swinging by the
Olympian. I speak languages unknown to this reality - sometimes with words, sometimes
with the heart. I fly like a dove with the wisdom of an owl. My aura multiplies while the
physicality that dwells in me recharges to bloom again.

What I call the dream, I see as life. Mine is quite unusual. You must take a good shot of
dreamy imagery to grasp. What keeps me breathing is the muse. It can take any shape - an
antique scenery, the morning breeze, songs from the past, the magic within a pearl, a
photograph in sepia taken in the 50s, a talk with a friend.

This book is a personification of my old soul in insights and epiphanies. When they collide,
they compound poetry, whether on typewriters, whether in ink and nib, sometimes even in
ancient scripts. Reverie is the manifesto of my heart and the open wings to my soul.
~ Levy L. Wells