Finding Hope

I sit here in my room, Lost; the walls closing in on me. This is my world – There is no escape. I try to run… My prison crushes down on me. And I’m left sprawled on the floor, Defeated. My eye catches something: a Canvas in the corner – Left by mistake By my captor… The tears stream down my face As I pick up the canvas, Searching for a truth Among its thin dreams. But nothing comes. I sit in disbelief, then My head falls; It’s too much. Suddenly I feel my Hands change grip, and I open my eyes: the canvas is gone; A shovel in its place. Inspiration immediately grips me, And within hours I am outside In the fresh air, my sheer joy Come from this simple shovel. Galvanized, I begin walking In my new life. Everything I see, touch, smell: It all affects me – I grow taller with every passing minute. To my left, a sparkling bright Blue sea of dreams, with a tropical touch. To my right, plants as far as I can see And the warm sun giving me new life. I continue walking. The dreams become a Lake, darker and colder. But all around the Pine trees glisten as the snow falls. I simply pause and watch as my breath flies away. The lake then is a creek, running and Dancing through a colorful painting. The spices and aromas envelop me; I feel like I could stay forever. But the dreams keep moving. The creek Almost dries up as it trudges through a Barren land, with the light so bright It burns the land. Yet the dreams survive, and turn into A mighty river, rushing toward its Own next adventure into the basin below. I stop and see it openly for the first time, this thing I’ve experienced. These dreams, I’ve realized, are The same ones the world over. Some may claim them as their own, But they are as free as the wind. Whether they’re racing around Stonehenge, Flying up the Eiffel Tower, Flowing across the plains of Mongolia, Or skirting with the Andean volcanoes They’re all connected. A wave of relief washes over me; I’m suddenly liberated. I turn to jump for joy at all that’s around me, But my foot catches on a branch – the ground rushes up. And then, the wind is gone. The trees, the scenes, the feeling, All gone. I can only hear silence, And I am afraid. I open my eyes to see… The canvas in my hands – The shovel no longer there, Instead the walls; bigger than before. My mind becomes darker. The canvas falls to the floor, Its echo reminding me Of where I am. I collapse on the floor, and My head hangs once more… The prison closes in As my dreams fall from my eyes.