Dreaming

 

Someone once asked this,

can dreams really exist?

And in my mind, I’m thinking

of a moment of bliss somewhere

where, yes, those dreams live,

They don’t always come easy,

they don’t always

present themselves with a bow,

wrapped in ribbons and a note,

But they sort of float through the air

and if you just throw out your hand,

grab them like a shooting star,

pull them into your heart,

let its warmth

be the spark

to warm their core,

then for sure those dreams can

always walk through your door.

 

But can they REALLY exist?

Can reality and dream

merge into a world where

Sunsets sit in tangerine kisses,

and the waterfalls flow around us,

could this be a reality

or is it just deluded fantasy,

poetic reveries playfully paraded as

a destination where we can be?

And I say yes.

Anything can happen with

the power of a kiss,

the magic of a heart that beats,

the lifting song of the sky,

the droplets of tears that form a sea

in which to dive.

Anything can be true,

if you believe in you.

 

But if dreams can be real,

if they really exist,

then why do we not

always live in this magic?

Because pain and hurt,

though tragic, are needed to

break through the static.

To lift the highs even higher.

To make those sighs sing softer

and to give us new pathways to follow.

Our dreams are already real.

We feel magic every single day,

in every smile raised,

in every heartbeat raised,

in every note played.

So, tune out the noise

and tune in to the heart,

and let the songs sway you

into a world of dreams.