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My Dreams



If dreams are rivers,

They are made of tears.

And the end of the river,

Is an ocean of fears.

People leave behind their dreams,

Searching for stability.

But dreams, or so it seems,

Are truly the best reality.


Aspirations are as a cloud,

Yet made of dirty air.

Unclean and loud,

As in a dragonís lair.

I dream to live my life

To its utter fullness,

No matter any of the strife,

Or the utter stillness.


My dreams lead to the ocean,

Dreaming of birds and sand,

And places I have been,

Till I cannot stand

Because of the weight of the memories,

That float in my mind.

Each its own true story,

For me to find and remember.


I want to go on past my life,

Far surpassing my expectations,

I want to look back at my wife,

And each of our creations.
I dream of a home,

And a woman and children,

Before I begin to roam,

And keep my love hidden.


All of this I dream,

Within my own self,

As I float alone the stream,

Not sit upon a shelf.

I wish to follow these,

My special dreams,

And each moment seize,

Carpe Diem.


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