Sometimes at night,

I lie in my head,

Somewhere else,

Yet still in my bed,

A dream is all He ever seemed to be,

Some other persons fantasy,

Not mine.

But now I wonder,

Could it all be true,

Could someone like Him be there,

Would they care?

But though I wish to believe,

It still really must be some fantasy,

Logic points to this conclusion,

Imagination points to the preferred solution,

Though imagination is the perfect life,

Reality is really a two way knife.

And if He was really there,

Wouldn't His love be more equal, more fair?

Why should it be made so easy for some to believe,

Coming from Christian backgrounds, disbelief they cannot conceive,

Whereas others live in isolation from the dream,

When harsh reality is preached, everything is what it seems.

So how can I love without fear or doubt,

If His love is something I know nothing about?