To dream, or not to dream, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in society to follow
The norms that command us all,
Or to rebel against the teachings, and
Destroy the thought? To dream is just that -
A dream; glimpses of a future great with a road
Stark, albeit alluring all the same. What
Is there not desirable about a dream?
To be the master of one’s world and dictate
The course of your actions? To dream is to want.
To want, perchance, the power - ah, but how can
That be true, if it is not your power
But society’s? Yes, that is the chain
That draws us down to the ground in measurable
Flocks. For who would bear the uncertainty
Life brings with its twisted paths, the scorn of
Groundlings, the quick clips in youth, a “yes”
Lost in “no”s, with the future shrouded and no
Brightness shining through, when he can just
Disguise as a groundling himself? Who would
Trouble himself with a life of uncertainty,
With no promise of success and those who
Won seen as far from the reachable grasp,
When ready are predetermined fates?
The imaginable mind, both a blessing
And a curse, allows for soaring among
The clouds, but keeps the ground near. The fear, of
The unknown, is strong and only matures every
Second the mind is kept running. Strong enough
To lock in cages the dreams that threaten
To escape. For there are many dreamers
But there are many more groundlings ready to
Take our place and society will not wait.