Quietly we pass

You speak freely in my dreams. There, you are kind. There, you are cruel. There, you are truthful. The world is a crucible of daggers. It has burned and bled me. I cannot wait with my eyes closed. I do not think you see me. And if my eyes are not closed- Well, I cannot dream. And you will not speak freely to me anymore. And you will not be cruel or truthful. Just kind. And unknown. Crucible unlit, dagger sheathed. Unknown. Perhaps our paths were not to meet in a field. And maybe your garden will be different from mine, someday.