There Was Dream

There was a dream I once held I my hands

It always belonged to me.

Somewhere along the way it slipped from my hands

It slept soundly for years, hidden from view

Its deep swollen cries ignored

It began to whisper in the lingering moments of evening

Breaking through a thicket of lies and broken pieces

It slowly become a lion’s roar

The sound was deafening

The dream is on fire, blazing vehemently

The crackle and incessant hiss demands to be heard

There was a dream. It is now. It is alive.

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