Dreaming

 

We live like deer or shy gazelle,

Our resting place the sun filled glade,

But waiting at the forest edge,

The yellowed fang the sharpened blade.

 

But dream we will as dream we must,

Imaginations feed our mind,

And be they passions lust or love,

They teach our souls to loose and bind.

 

If we ourselves could mirror god,

What true reflections would we see,

The breath of angels in the heart,

Soft earth to plant the knowledge tree,

 

If we accept that we are dust,

Why crawl primeval from the slime,

We burnish hope like glistered gold,

With dreams to light the lamp of time.

 

When we aspire the mountains shake,

For naught but dread can hold us down,

We turn the tides on endless shores,

And cause the fearing hoards to drown.

 

Our greatest art has captured light,

The music soars in unchained spheres,

We bless the page with written word,

Our songs have echoed down the years.

 

And all in all we sit and dream,

The physicist the engineer,

The poet and the courtesan,

The prisoners, the pioneer.

 

But yet within that sun filled glade,

The frail gazelle that is our mind,

Must quiet stand and wait the shock,

That comes to slaughter and to blind.

 

For in our dreams vile tigers wait,

With yellowed teeth and glinting eye,

In them all hope is hopelessness,

And life has been the bitter lie.