The biggest of gifts is the act of dreams
They make us swim without a fin;
Heating up our frozen blood when our hearts are weak
Making us look from chaos to a day of peace.
It is the greatest gift or calamity
Like a sedative used to shut us from reality
If taken too much, we seize to live
So are dreams, intoxicating fallacies
For those who dwell in them but not too much
They keep it away from the hand with which they mulch
They strive but never belief in what it preaches
That the sea we see has no harm in it
Our planet was built to be perfectly imperfect
So imperfect that it’s poles are vividly stretched
It’s not always about summer but also the three others
A coin is never a coin without its other side
But for most of us that walk the soil,
Who lived a life without a clause
We grow out of shorts and into trousers
And watch helplessly as dreams mature into nightmares
Is dreaming a blessing or a consoling string
That we pull to build a strengthened wit?
Is it an asset or a waste of reasoning?
Is it even reasoning or a diversion from reality?