Two.

Sometimes dreamers
wait
wait
wait
until dreams become words
and dreamers become writers

but suddenly no one is sleeping
and the dreams stop forming,
the words stop flowing --

there are no more dreams,
no more words.

After enough time has passed
and lakes have dried
into cement beds,
another quiet night
stirs dreamland's gate
lifting the heavy latch
from its metal prison,
opening wide
for
all
and many hopeless dreams emerge
that spawn new, hopeless words

and the cycle dawns
as the moon rises,
full and bright and yearning
for worlds to unfold
beneath her gaze.