I am

a dreamer.

My mind is a playing field

My goals are the starters,

As my oppositions take the bench.

But sometimes they get up

No longer rooted

They get a chance to take part in something

That could be great

That could be successful

 sometimes they catch the pass

Running...running

they score.

I am falling

I am falling into a state

Darkness, anger

Cold, oh so cold

Fingers

prickly, gangly

Laced with 14 karot gold

Filled with promises of comfort

Shaking me awake

Promises of respect

Promises of-

I'm not ready

I will not conform

I will not conform

I'm not ready

I'm not ready

I'm not ready

But then I am saved. 

By my purpose

The purpose

for the dreamer

is happiness

The purpose

for the opposition

is impracticality.

Eventually antipathy is benched once again.

No longer wanted by the coach

The controller

me.

Ambition regains the ball

Who passes it to motivation

Who passes it to commitment

Commitment stumbles but casts it to success

Running...running

Success scores. 

The coach smiles.

The purposes smile.

The oppositions smile, as they know the purposes never would have won without them

They are right.

The crowd rises

Hats off

take a bow

to the people who wish

to the people who aim

For what is started in the mind

Is always 

Finished

in

reality.