Every night my bed is my cocoon, safe and cozy. Yet in each dream I am the butterfly, wings spread wide, each as bright as new petals.
My bed is my nightly hug, a warm place to dream. It is the safe harbour from which my soul plays with the black heavens, communicating in the language of the stars and feeling the sweetness of the soul-ether.
When the stars come out to play and the evening takes on that aroma of the night, when the crickets sing for the joy of living, my bed awaits. I love the softness, the quiet, the sense of rest. My thoughts slow as a beautiful carousel, each dancing as ribbons from a kite string that reaches for sky, its colours embracing those lofty heights and inviting in the dreams that wear festival costumes and are formed of music. As I rest my bed is the four pillars beneath me, my safe place and cozy serenity.
In any humble bed can come dreams of nobility, of bravery and heart. In any night can be born a knight, a hero of chivalry.