He had a dream
Haunting him at night
It would fly into his hands
So he tried to cage it
But he only made it fly away

When he was a boy, he dreamed of dragons. Little else did he remember, but he knew that there were scales in more colors than there are words in a language, flashing, beating, swirling through the air like a stream of bubbles breathed into the wind. Mighty claws, eyes like jewels, and senses to hear the heartbeats of sparrows on the wing. That was all before, before the words, before the rite, before before. Now he could only dream. He could only sing. And both he did, without ceasing.

Captured like an insect in amber, weight of wings on his back, talons in his hand, he dreamed of a night sky. He dreamed of lights, of spires, of a city sparkling like glass. People to walk its streets, a million lives for the one he had surrendered. He dreamed of silence, he dreamed of motion, he dreamed of blood in his veins. He dreamed of waking, he dreamed of sleep.

He dreamed he was free.

He had a song
It was running through his mind
It was singing from the past
So he tried to sing it
But he found he could not make it last

When he was a boy, he dreamed of music. A lullaby of his mother's, or a song he'd made up on his own. It came to his lips like speech, in the quiet of his thoughts, and the echo of it was the cadence of his childhood. but as time passed he sang it less, and never when he thought of it. There was a life to be lived, and fame to be won, and he was busy with the importance of his own existence.

He found it, fleeting in his fingers, when he touched the rim of his world and it burst upon his ears like thunder. He washed up on a world made of a scale of notes, spiraling down, and was caught in the current of sound. Time had ever been his enemy, and there were ives to live and sacrifices to make, and he made his choice. A prisoner of his own armor, like a turtle welded to its shell, he swam and ran and flew as if he could outrun himself. Only the music followed, fleeting and still, and he would hover in its echoes, waiting for the end. He dreamed of a life that wasn't, he dreamed of a child's sullen eyes, he dreamed of a sharp blade to slide into his heart.

He dreamed he was free.

He was alone
With a picture of his life
On the outside looking in
So he tried to change it
But he lost the person he had been

When he was a boy, he dreamed of journeys. In his imaginings, paths opened up to places unseen, sweeping high mountains and secret forests, his to explore and name and make his own, the whole world his to roam. But waking came soon and the paths twisted and became a road, inevitable and with only one destination. In vain he tried to seek his own way, but after years of walking against the road he found his feet on it, leading him away.

There was only one road, only one path, and it drove him before it like a leaf on the river. He could not see a way that would lead him anywhere else, and so he walked it, taking comfort at least in knowing it would end. He dreamed of hope, he dreamed it would work; but in the quiet of his heart he dreamed of futility and bondage, of what would have been, of loves unsaid. And his veins were like a net holding him down, each summon another stone on his grave.

He dreamed he was free.

He had a love
It was keeping him alive
It was someone else ago
So he tried to hide it
But he knew he'd never let it go

When he was a boy, he dreamed of glory. Wars and battles and hands to be won, the brightness of steel and evil vanquished. He dreamed of a lord to swear fealty to, to love with all his blood, a name to die for. He fought mock battles with his friends and knew his path, and with a boy's dreaming he thought all men were what they said they were.

He dreamed he might have done better, he could have stood alone, he dreamed it was worth it. But his heart led him away. The lord he found, and swore to, to love with all his blood. He dreamed it could be as simple as a boy's devotion. He dreamed of speaking, he dreamed of telling his heart, he dreamed of other ways. He dreamed that he could dream. Answers failed him, faith failed him, hope failed him, his sword failed him, his life failed him, and he was alone with his promises.

He dreamed he was free.