In the garden of my dreams grew many dream-blossoms. The rarest flowers of my fancy all bloomed there. Unopened buds of earthly hopes audaciously spread their petals of fulfillment, warmed by the light of my dreams. In the dim glow, I spied the specters of beloved forgotten faces, sprites of dear, dead feelings, long buried beneath the soil of mind, which all rose in their shining robes. I beheld the resurrection of all experiences, at the trumpet-call of my dream-angels.
O King of my dreams and of countless dream-worlds, in the garden of Thy dream-galaxies let me be a tiny star, or let me twinkle by Thy side as Thy loved dream-star in the chamber of Thy cosmic dreams. Or, if I be not held by the string of Thy love as a tiny star-bead of life in the garland of Thy dreams, then give me the humblest place in the heart of Thy dreams.
In the chamber of Thy heart, I shall behold the making of the noblest dreams of life. O Master-Weaver of Dreams, teach me to make a many-hued carpet of dreams, for all lovers of Thy pattern of dreams to walk over, as they travel to the temple of eternal dreams. And I will join the worshipping angels of living visions that I may offer on Thine altar a bouquet of my new-born dreams of Thee.