The Little Dreamer
Veering off the street he heads for a wooded area. Slowly society drifts away as peace seems to be found. Underneath the limbs of evergreens, he finds a fallen tree and sits letting his mind wander to take him to another time. Eventually all thought seems to leave as he zones out in a daze where time becomes erased and all becomes forgotten; frozen for a minute, maybe an hour. One dead heart and one dead soul continue to beat inside of him for those moments of nothingness that so often do occur.
After what seems an eternity, he slowly gets up to leave. To go down another path, and see where he shall end up. As he begins to walk slowly back towards the street, dark clouds form with in the sky. In his eyes you can see a transformation as confidence and strength is slowly born. The winds rise at his command seeping into his heart, and the power from his soul brings the rains pouring down around him. With a torrent of the world blowing fourth from his fingertips for a second he feels alive, more then alive he feels empowered.
These moments come so few, less with every year and every gaining of age. With every failed attempt and every lost hope, the small bits of power slowly fade away. Love brings them back again, stronger then they ever were carrying through the darkest nights and the hardest times, but then love turns it’s back, says sorry but I must go. Too depressing that you be, and I don’t think I love you anymore.
Books of fairy tails, and lands so far away brought hopes and dreams into a tattered mind. Learning how to love, and even how to live, but all is forgotten when the pain it gets too much. The little dreamer dies each time the dream is shown to be unreal. Then the little dreamer longs to live only in dream and turn its back on reality. At times reality is enough, its better then the dream, but then it disappears leaving you never wanting to live.
The little dreamer is I, but have I lost my way? I long for reality and pray for the dream. To join the two hand in hand as they were for so long; to feel the warmth that no dream can create and only you can bring. Storms at times they brew bringing the flame with in, but with every ounce of strength that enters into my bones, the objective is all the same. Protect you with my heart, defend you from any harm, hold you close and never release bringing warmth that only true heart’s may bring.
Shadows dance at night, bringing another truth. This dream is not a dream it seems. Imperfections remain that only live in reality. Dreams that hold you, but tell of tales that reality always has, bringing hopes that this can be real, a dream with in reality that will find a way to form again. In each dream joyful or sorrow, where ever my heart may be it still remains to you forever in your grasp. Bring any painful reality to my wishful dream, bring any challenges that await, but give me back the dream that’s kept me so alive, since the first time that I dreamt.
Oh I remember now, the first time I dreamt of you. It was before we met did you know? It was before I saw your face in fact. It was a short part of a dream in my little youth, I saw you there, a vampire you would be, and the hunter that I was, but refused to kill kissing you gently and then the others turned on me claiming you had changed me. Oh it was you I dreamt of then, your hair was as it was when we met though it would be years later and your beauty was far more then I could ever dream. Oh I remember the second time, again before we met. Somehow I knew your name though never I’d been told.
It was not too long, in tell my heart lunged out, for I always walked alone, and I always saw you there. After tormented years, and a painful life, my heart gave in to you. It stopped fleeing and shying away and led me straight to you, as it always tried to do, and I always tried to stop it. Even now with life as its come to pass, I find it hard to deny the calling whispers lingering deep with in. A guiding force always bringing me close, telling my soul the needs and wants the passion that lay with in. Love would not be selfish if the loved cherished it so, but one may never beg to be loved or force a heart. One can only embrace there own hoping that it shall comfort another holding its deepest core.
Now it brings my thought, of what one heart should do. When it’s hanging on, but has been pushed away; when my voice becomes a silent whisper that’s just a reminder of the past. The past that will never be erased, but you wish to part ways. A past that was meant to last, but you wish it to be gone.
