The Song of a Dreamer

I thought the longest time before writing this poem

because words are like people, and people, like songs.

Lines just for each other, makes stanzas and verse,

a beautiful symphony lights up from earth.

A dream's song, oh so simple and clear,

notes that are running when nobody's here.

When I dream, I see time, I see space in all forms,

how we all die, and how we were born.

I see the sadness, pain, scars, and the blood

and wonder to get here, what did we become?

The lost and the wandering, the cold and the chilled

An old man that wanders, deprived of all will.

We live for an age, but we suffer for years,

the strength of all things are reduced into tears.

These notes of discord are what I dream first,

but then as I sleep, all the nightmares disperse,

hope soon then follows, denying the curse,

allowing an age were we all learn to live

and death is made happy, not covered in tears,

where wars are not fought, and we all can hear,

the sound of that symphony, the ones hatred fears,

music in the clouds.