THE REPRESSION OF DREAMS

Something about tonight and tomorrows we may not see, made me think of the kind of hope and dreams that live in the tension of working towards a peace you may not experience, and the worth of continuing to attempt to find it:

We are the kids of a complacent present;
the melancholy brats of our time.
Groomed to believe that we hold the fortune,
That treasure lies in our mind.
Dream intermingled with reality,
fiction purer than fact.
Our dreams formed part of our existence,
Our lives on our success.
And here we stand,
The brink of greatness;
We will not be denied our dreams.
Dreams that raised us and gave us hope;
Suffocated by the so-called real world.
Dreams that fed us inspiration;
Forcefully purged out our systems.
We will not be satisfied with mediocrity--
not happy with our current disposition.
Failure was never a manual given to us.
Success. The only story told to us.
So we continue to bash our heads against the soft pillow of disappointment
Signalling to our fellow dreamers that:
the battle is not yet won, the war is far from over.
The cry for our beloved Dream still beating strong
   -it will not be turned away.
Wisdom beyond our years. The wise.
And for the wise, life, is but, a dream.

[until you wake up.]




(suggested title: the only story told to us)