Living in a fantasy, or maybe it's a dream;
A place that forgets shame and fear - no need to cry or scream.
Within my heart I carry it everywhere that I go;
A second home when things are tough - one that only we know.

It's warm, inviting, peaceful, and more than that, it's ours;
Created by each moment shared - no need for special powers.
Our voices, words, intentions, and the memories we keep
Are brush strokes on a canvas most would say belongs to sleep.

We share it, though - together, with full presence, wide awake;
And somewhere in between us, it holds everything we make.
Music, art, and poetry - memories that never fade;
All woven like a tapestry intertwining light and shade.

Sometimes imagination is the cure for a disease;
Like doubt or low self confidence, or locked doors without keys.
Sometimes it's an escape hatch to a distant sanctuary;
A space to find some solitude, and put down weight we carry.

Sometimes, though, it's a portal to a world that we can share;
One more real than reality if you spend enough time there.
It's not all pretty rainbows, magic gumdrops and endless fun;
Sometimes it's space to cry, to vent, or sort truth from delusion.

Sometimes the space between two minds is all we need to heal;
And sometimes it's the womb where something greater is made real.
If we all live defined by what the world wants us to be,
I'd rather share a dream with you and live in fantasy.