Often confusing

Dreams.

I fear once my dreams come true,
I would have nothing left to do.
And yet I can't help but dream of all,
All the things and you.

A pity, I can't ever be content,
With the scenes of morning true,
Lighting up my head inside,
And dripping with cold clear dew.

Tis a back and forth, of want and unease.
My dreams are just comfort, just ease.
Open my eyes I must, but till then,
I am content to fly and dream.