Maybe the wildest dreams are but the needful preludes of the truth.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

So runs my dream, but what am I?
An infant crying in the night
An infant crying for the light
And with no language but a cry.