Dreams

Far from reality, yet somehow our own.

Dreams are the colors of black and white life.

Tiny bits of our reality, a large spoonful of whishes. 

Even when dreams are just fictions,

Even when they are just subconscious images. 

Dreams are the hope of a better life.

Dreams are still the currency of the future. 

To the orthodox of reality, dreams are the breaks of freshness. 

Like a light shower of rain, after scorching noon. 

Be it a dark dream of pain unknown, 

or be it the sweet dream of a walk in the clouds. 

We still drift into the boat of adventure each night. 

We sleep and dream through the night.