I find that
now that I am getting more aged,
dreams have taken a little turn,
Where they had been adventurous before,
They are becoming more macabre and stern.
The events morph and all the people too,
I visit places never seen before,
And these vague events keep on repeating
Like phantoms, and returning more and more.
So now I have to ponder to myself,
When thinking day replaces dreaming night,
Why is it that my dreams have changed so much,
Are they mystic, and what have they in sight?