Of life and dreams, a simple child is born.
His days pass by abound in rapt, and road
That lead to gain and loss, sweet bliss, and mourn.
‘Til night draws close, and eager step is slowed.
So, too, the dream is slowly whittled down.
From heights and mounts to plain and graded ground,
Where hues held fast do, sadly, fade to brown
And faith and hope grow dim and, then, profound.
Yet, dreams n’er die while beat the heart of man.
Before death rears its head and dreams defile,
Man turns his hope to tiny heart and hand,
And waning dreams live on in dreamer’s child.
Count years or wealth or friends or great esteem,
What keeps the soul of man alive–is dream.
________________________________________Cyndie “CJ” Zahner is an author of The Suicide Gene and Dream Wide Awake. She is also, very much, a dreamer. Follower Zahner at www.cjzahner.com, Amazon, Facebook, Instagram, twitter, goodreads and Bookbub.