Dreams will say nothing

Dreams will say nothing and I tell you so.
Dreams are far stars and nothing more.
If they could tell a meaning, you would know.

If we should cry when love rips out a core,
If we might stumble, when it falls apart,
dreams would tell nothing, even if you tore

them apart, searching them for a voice,
winding them back or putting them on hold.
Dreams would not answer, would not make a noise.

There must be reasons why we stay alone.
Time always swallows dreams, completely, whole,
and then they’re silenced with all memories gone.

Suppose that dreams could fly and then survive
in different fields and under different skies.
Would dreams mean something, would they change a life?

Once wind-blown dreams arrived out of nowhere,
carried us for a while, then let us go.
They told us nothing. We are here, they're there.