We're told to dream, to make great plans
We're given praise for thoughts deemed grand
With eyes tightly shut, Imagination births
It slowly rises up, ascending from the Earth...
With time and distance, the dream loses form
A premature bubble, popped. The heart is torn
We may moan, and we may groan...
But alas, a new bubble is about to form.
Maybe this is it. The one that will soar
Only time will tell.
For now, just dream... and then dream some more.