Saturday, July 26, 2014

In Favor of Dreaming

The weight of these weeks is heavy, yet
My shoulders were built to carry anything
I watch those gray clouds forming and know
These storms shall pass shortly.

In the echoes of time, will I be known for
Your hatred, or my love and all that has sprung forth
From my hands, as it stands
I built worlds among the once dead
Breathed life into the hearts of men
And purpose within the indiscriminate
The weight of my eyes is heavy, but there's a light in them
And it burns bright and blue, burns to know the truth
Will I reach the highest mountain, partake in the only view
Worth savoring, that of dreams and a world
Worth laboring for, worth burning down the most beautiful of bridges
Just to reach the door
In the annals of time, will I be remembered for dying
Miserable, or living to the core, breathing in this
Toxicity, and exhaling something pure
Can I filter the filth that conditions the ill
Into despising the gift of a cure

The weight of these dreams is heavy, yet
I carry them free of hesitation
I welcome the shadows that envelop me and know
Passion will light the way for me

In the throes of these wild oceans, I will be known for
The course I've committed to sailing
Along her crests and valleys
I've spilt a thousand bottles of ink
Bled profusely for the salvation of dreams
In a world without a word to believe
The weight of my time grows heavy, yet
I will not grow weary, I will not concede
I will breach the gates of cruelest fates
And free from them the love they keep
Hidden in their clutches, somewhere in the deep
Just to see them flourish
In the annals of time, I will be remembered for fighting
I will be remembered for dying, for something, weaving in these
Shuttered windows, a light to overcome the shadows
I will still the doubts that keep us closed
That we may know we are not gone
Yet, we are not lost
Or dead, merely waiting for the breath
That comes next, I am here
I live, if only to show you
Give a voice to your passion
Let no dream pass your lips
In silence, rage against the quiet complacence
Your life has not reached its end
Yet.

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