I one time dreamed a dream wherein I walked within an open field,

where every step a memory was, and every breath was poignant filled.

I saw each day I ever lived, they all bled slowly into one.

Each opportunity to give now stood a moment left undone.

I saw each thing I ever owned and tried so hard to justify,

but every effort woeful fell and I was left to wonder why.

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Can you grasp a piece of midnight,

from the furthest reach of the sky,

when it seems nothing has gone right

and there’s no reason why?

Can you see yourself from the shadows,

in the place you’ve been hiding there,

then come to grips with who you are

and finally breathe the air?

For birds believe they’re born to fly.,

each seed knows it will grow.

So likewise...

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Oh, why so many dreams bestowed

in young and tender years,

fall into drifting dust decay 

then sadly disappear.

Are dreams to blame for broken hearts

and quiet hour’s remorse?

Or is the dreamer born of guilt

for veering from its course?

Are dreams unfair for rising up

to skies in brilliant hue?

Perhaps they take no time for thought

and ask too much to d...

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