Dreams,
our penultimate lifeline.
Small dreams.
Big dreams.
Everything dream in between.
Dreams appear as
thunder and lightening.
As a rhythmic clock ticking.
They follow us, whispering.
Dreams stand in front of us and bellow,
prod, and bluster.
Asking.
Begging.
Pleading.
Cajoling.
Beseeching us to listen.
They are realized.
Rejected.
Rejuvenated.
Forgotten and fragmented.
Dreams show us who we are,
who we wish to be,
who we are not.
Dreams cannot be stolen from us.
They ARE us.
Where we go,
what we do,
we are the dream.
© KaZ Akers