If there were dreams to sell

If there were dreams to sell,
Happy stories, sad tales to tell —
I’d buy not joy alone, nor grief apart,
But the dream that echo all the chaos of the heart.

If dreams were hung in a shop’s bright display,
I'd choose the one that time just hides away —
Like the love that lives by neither touch nor sound —
But as a promise to self, without being bound.

So tell me, dream-seller — sell me true,
What price for a dream that feels like two?
Where sorrow and sweetness live side by side,
Making war and peace through every tide.