A dream might be carried for many years,
And there are those that are left behind,
It’s not the fulfillment of a dream,
That is how a heart’s defined,
What effort might it take,
How long should we toil,
Before that dream is buried deep,
In a soul’s bloodied fertile soil.
Tears at times can be the water,
That helps a dream to grow,
Yet darkness can be a curtain,
That won’t allow the dream to show,
A heart can hold on for a lifetime,
As the dream refuses to die,
Though we wonder what happens to hope,
If the dream appears a lie.
How far would we travel,
In the quest to hold our dreams,
And if a stop sign blocks our path,
Is it accompanied by our screams,
Do fences become our boundaries,
For those dreams we strive to save,
And if it seems to far a distance,
Is it sent to an unmarked grave.
If we look into a person’s eyes,
Is it the person that we see,
Or is the reflection of our dreams,
That each day we wish were free,
Do we contemplate the effort,
We may be required to exert,
Or do we somehow lose our way,
And with that doubt our dream pervert.
When we look towards our horizons,
And in the distance glimpse our dreams,
Does the distance frighten us,
Or does it become less than it seems,
Are our hearts in some way dedicated,
To the premise we can achieve,
And if all our attempts seem to fail,
In heart and mind do we still believe.
It’s hard sometimes to understand,
Where a dream’s attachment seems to be,
And when a heart holds out it’s hand,
I feel the dream still alive in me,
No matter how long a dream survives,
No matter how our hearts scream,
Hearts and souls can reach through the distance,
Defining the distance to our dreams.