All of our beautiful dreams

What do we know
of the winds that carry gasps of relief
of the breaths we thieve between shifts of grief
The difference between what we want to hold in our palms
and what we wish to achieve in our dreams ?

Sleep through thunder and lightning
Walk between the impossible and frightening
The labors of love know nothing of opinions
The power to wield wisdom
starts within the confines of our own dominion

The artist escapes
But is also discovered
through the pores of their work
The weight of sentences and sketches
cannot hold fair prices upon the scales of their returns

If I stand tall upon the mountains of solitude
It is through pen and paper
that I fly into forever
To build a world of words one must justify the absurd
and still pry their dreams from the grips of surrender

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