The Dream

So many choices. Are there?     

Can we live just anywhere?       


Or must we share the hidden fear          

Of those who made us travel here?       


Is there a place for my own dream          

Among the billions that’s been schemed?           


And could it be my saving grace                

To lift me from this darkened place?      


Or is the thing a fantasy               

A moment’s use then thrown away?     


Rise above and steal a gaze                        

Back into forgotten days                              


What sees the musing face        

The moments so displaced?      


The hope of children

Lost of the pilgrim


Who went his way

To grasp his fate


‘Til the day

Realness came


At last.

No past.













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