On the Wing of a Dream

what dreams may come
or rather, what may come of my dreams?
each night they gather inward with seraphim-like wings
thoughts, desires, images all swirling as I rest
hopes and fears melted down to the speed of flight
some flit about, some soar, while others perch and stay
unwanted
uncomfortable
the outside unaware of the movement within
trilling like sparrows they come to the surface as I wake
only to then melt away