And so the dream does not end.
It becomes the wind that carries her scarf.
It becomes the star that burns brightest when she looks up at night.
It becomes the hush of the desert,
and the warmth of the dunes,
and the quiet smile she wears when no one is watching.
For love ....
real love ....
is never undone by time, or silence, or fate.
It lives in the spaces between.
It sings in whispers only two hearts can hear.
And though the dreamland has faded,
the Dreamer and her Star still find each other ...
in glances, in sighs,
in the golden shimmer of memories that refuse to dim.
This is not goodbye.
It never was.
It is simply another way of saying:
"I am here. Always."
And in the desert,
if you listen closely…
you can still hear their story.
You can still feel their love.
It is written in the sand.
It is painted in the sky.
It is eternal.
For every dreamer has their star.
And every star…
remembers its dreamer....