DREAMS

I

Dreams flutter around my head..
As i sit down, eating beans and bread..
Dancing in my mind are mangled hopes.
Entwined like a labyrinth of many ropes..

Fighting against the wiles of profanity..
The mind wanders through the plains of Sagacity..
Trained like a monk, to show no pain..
The soul becomes undaunted, in the midst of rain..

Zeal becomes the madman who,
In his quest for knowledge, becomes the fool..
Who acts irrational, hated by them..
Who lack discipline, and courage to stand firm..

But through it all, dreams will live on..
Even in the shadows of a dying sun..
For by it, memories still will remain..
In the remnants of time, for they, who lived not in vain..

II

There is a garden in the city of the mind..
Where dreams were sown, nurtured and grown..
The farmer was a different unique kind..
With the wisdom to discern the seeming unknown..

With an understanding of the times and seasons..
He made sure no crop withered or died..
He lived in the hut of logical reasoning..
Where hopes were made, and faith abides..

Then came the thief in the night..
Cunning feel of pleasures disguised as light..
To steal the seeds sown beside the streams of tears..
By this farmer, who lived in hurt and fears..

He prayed for harvest in the wake..
Of low yield in his garden of dreams..
To be directed where the future sings..
The songs of hope in solemn hymns..

III

He walked through a life of many dreams..
Some fulfilled, some lost deep within..
Some waiting to be heard singing..
The long lost songs of pre-dawning bliss

The measure of dreams comes in sizes.
Some small, some big, some need resizes..
Some are filled with the gleaming nauseous look..
Of malnutrition from lack of penny-hooks..

Sometimes, dreams walks through the tapestries of fate..
To find solace on the hills of reality..
Sometimes in the wake of deafening silence..
It discusses with the mind; explaining why he should never, be left behind..

He walked through the narrow path of faith..
Toddling past time, in gay distitches..
With a heart of steel, he walked thru the valley..
Where dreams are slaughtered in exchange for money..

Finding silence screaming in the mirth of his dreams..
Was like finding life decomposing without death..
To see the future groaning in deep pains..
Cause his present is become a self-centered merchant of earthly gains..

Carrion of his hope were eaten by the vultures..
Of sin, self and corruption, the king..
Reigning in the hearts of deviant men..
Eating the remnants of zeal left in their den..

They then walk about as living deads..
Like zombies roaming without heads..
Enshrouded with the darts of evil..
To destroy his dreams, like tubers to the weevil..