The sound of the horn shatters the night,

Ignoring the dreams taking flight—

It does not care the moon is there,

And disregards the air it shares

With stars, comets, and planets, too;

The horn will blast and rip on through.

Tonight—and nights not foreseen,

That same horn ba-da-dums! in my dreams,

Creating a rhythm that cleans and aligns,

The world inside my amused mind,

Till all I can see is a colorful view:

A dream as bright as indigo blue.