You rise like the sun in the darkest depths of my insomniac mind. Each day, you shine, like a river under the moonshine. You shine, across my lonesome valley. Of broken promises and pain. You run through my veins. Many deserts that I have crossed, years lost in aging, drifting indifference,  now weep. Now weep in rain. Rivers born in sand lands, like questions raised in time, now melt, melt to the sea. Sand dunes turns to crimson clay. And it shapes a dream, safe. Safe enough to be real. No questions, no doubt; no fiction, no half measures. Just an overlapping image that increasingly mel...