First the dreams, they always come first.
I never know why,
but the sky in my dreams is always midnight. Always dark with bits of starlight,
deep with hope to hold tight.
The grass is tall and alive,
bending to the will of the wind yet never worried about surviving.
My dreams have one thing in common,
they share my life with me.
The parts it's sure I've never seen,
the emotions that I refused to glean from
all come out to play.
They remind me of the person
I try not to think about,
or the line that keeps floating
around in my head,
sometimes, sometimes
I can see everything I desire
in the space of an hour,
as if the dream has a mind of its own,
knows that I have plans to go places.
Gives me everything I ever wanted or needed,
They let me taste my wishes.
Yes, the dreams are always first.
Then comes the worst of it.
To open eyes to a sky full of nightmares,
a sea filled with wrecks,
to a reality that continues to stack deck upon deck of unchecked,
unfathomable, and inestimable evil.
Everyday.
It takes a lot of strength to want to live here in this world. It takes more for some than others. Those who watch their brothers cut down,
or lovers brought low...
It takes immeasurable strength to dream amidst reality.
Humans prove their quality by doing both, living and dreaming.
It must be some drive that we all share,
some bold-faced brazen fire that we all hold
to see our dreams in this dimension,
all with the full intention of not ever having to wake up from it,
but be in it.
We don't get it right most times,
but isn't it enough that we still dare?
SK
A/N: This poem is dedicated to cIeopatran, with love
