A dream is an internal thing
A personal endeavor.
The hope, desire, will or wish
That stays with you forever.
Yet dreams are but the building blocks
The trickle to the stream,
Insubstantial as ambition
As incongruous as steam.
For reality to blossom
From imagination's bed
Guard your dreams not only in your heart,
But also in your head.
From there your path is smooth and clear,
Built not of clouds but stone,
For success smells so much sweeter
When you can taste it as your own.
In other news, I have two feet of snow outside my house and I have just been informed that school will resume as scheduled tomorrow. And I have no boots. Add 'impossible' to my list of relative concepts. Positive thought for the day: I am still taller than the snow.
Edit: Revised the last four lines.
From there your road begins in truth,
Built not of clouds but stone.
For success is sweet in growing,
But is purest when it's grown.
1 comment:
Thanks for the comments, torontopearl! I'm not really sure what to do with end of the poem. With the last two lines, I was trying to play on 'sweet smell of success' and turn it into something more tangible, but... I'm not sure, it doesn't feel right. And I think you are right about 'guard'- I'll probably replace it with 'keep' or 'hold'. I kept pinballing between the three as I wrote, and for productivity's sake I just slapped one down. I really appreciate your thoughts.
-M
Post a Comment