Ode to the dreams

Thousands of dreams in the eyes, all flying high, no contact with ground, they just fly high
Such a short life and so many dreams, some crash violently, some are compromised.
But dreams still exist, at times blinding the eyes, flying high, loosing contact with life. Hope sinks but dreams still exist, like spring they just bounce back, one drop of life and they just pop back…fresh and still alive, strong and still kicking
To stop dreaming is impossible; to live dream is a dream,
Dreams that start well turn out to be nightmares, burning the whole self with their hopelessness.
But still they are dreams. Hopes though shattered, eyes still see dreams in the minds eye where everything is perfect as wish has in it.
Even if reality pricks are nasty and in deathly black and white, dreams still are all Technicolor, pulsating, full of life.


This poem is dedicated to all dreams. Some hopeless yet hoping to be fulfilled, some fulfilled and later darkened by reality, some still colorful and rosy, some crashed, some in budding state. Yours and mine. Dreams, only where we can live complete, the only thing that keeps us alive.