Kings of Our OwnDreams, so friendly can they be.
Always an alluring promise once asleep.
What a tease dreams can be.
One never knows if they will dream or if they have once woken.
Alas, dreams are a constant.
The wind is constant, but varies in direction.
Death is invetible but true for all that live.
But life, a constant but nver promised.
And what is a dream but a life unlived?
A thought unsaid?
A desire unmet?
A longing to be fulfilled?
Dreams said to be the subconscious given a voice,
Speaking inheritantly and always in a code but always as truth.
Fickle dreams can be and the same can be same for all.
We are never satisfied.
Is that not the way of our nature?
To always desire but to never deserve?
To pant in the heat of the day and long for the cool breeze,
But when the breeze would bless our face we ask for water or shade?
In what pursuit of happiness do we search?
To what happiness?
To where we will find ourselves? Lost.
Can I at least fool myself into thinking I can control what I lose?
As to whom I lose, I know I will not always have a choice...
But compassion, caring, kindness.
"Keep being hopeful" is all that can be said. All that we care to tell ourselves....
Isn't it so truthful?
Do we not contain dialogs within ourselves?
Do we not push within and without?
Do we not resist?
Do we not insist upon the pain of ourselves and others just to see if it still hurts?
... Have we always longed for this control?
For those God-like abilities?
To rule on Olympus and all that surrounds?
Do we not desire to be Kings of Our Own?
Poetry by Sarah Parnes
Read 333 times
Written on 2016-08-15 at 17:25
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