As I lay here awake at night,
I think of things of my delight.
I ponder what will happen next.
But I know for what ever it may be,
that it will be for the best.
I wish I could turn into a dove,
so I fly from this place and go to my love.
I hate not what I do nor say,
but that which has happened and that where I stay.
Yet I seem not to forget the one I truely love,
not my father,
mother nor my brothers,
but the one that is not of my blood.
My heart can never forget her face nor name.
When I am with her things are never the same.
As I lay here growing tired,
my mind becomes full of fire,
not a bad fire but as good as any,
a fire that's known not to very many.
A fire that drives you to your innermost fantasies,
where you may see gnolms, wizards, witches, and fairies.
A land of the unknown,
but to you it's home.
A place of adventures and tales,
a place with no borders nor boundries,
the place of the Nothing,
and the place of the Everything.
Yet this place is calling me because I am late,
for my Fantastica awaits.
For I am going home without a fight
so I say to you have a good night.


