What are my dreams made of ?
Are they made of the sugar-coated mountains,
That I saw as a child?
Were they, the so called ‘past life’ fragments,
That played in my mind?
Or was it the time I dreamt of me as an astronaut,
Floating, in the vast expanse of the cosmos ?
Was it that legendary Prize ,
which I still hope to win some day?
Or the days my deepest desires,
Danced before my eyes?
Were they, the tear driven nights,
Where I woke up in a cold sweat?
Or were they like the beautiful fields I saw,
which I once described in my poems?
Was it like that cold wintry night,
where I found myself next to you?
Or was it that day, salty wind in my hair,
As the angry waves lashed the shore?
Was it that eerie feeling
When a new place seemed way too familiar?
Or was it when I saw myself dancing
while the audience roared in applause?
Was it all those aspirations,
Scribbled in a bucket list?
Was it the illustrious future,
That my imagination conceived?
What are my dreams really made of?
It’s probably time for me to let them free.
Some ridiculed my dreams,
Told me I was heading for failure.
Yet some stood by me like rocks.
They told me I could dream
Of Anything I ever wanted to be
So I dreamt of hope, of strength, of world peace,
Of equality, Of liberty, Of acceptance,
Of cleaner skies, and a greener earth,
Of butterflies and warmer hearts,
Of kindness, Of happiness, and just a little woe,
Because no rain, means no rainbows.
But these dreams are not mine alone to do,
And with this poem I share my dreams with you!