We sit on a rock,
overlooking someone's fields
and pretend we are somewhere far
not just a few blocks away from home
It's Cinderella-like the way it happens.
The lush reeds turn to palm trees
fertile farmlands into sandy beaches
A sad attempt to accomodate our imagination.

I know we have always been too big for this country,
but right now it reeks of desperation.

So we look to the skies for validation
but in the dam we find motivation
from the water that flows without a destination.

"Does it hope to become  river?", we wonder.
If it hopes to grow from it's  current state.
Like a butterfly from a catterpillar.
Is it's movement a show of faith?
That the reeds and plants will open
and clear a path  for it's murky waters.
This is why the dam feels like home:

Though we can't see our reflections,
the dam is able to reflect our ambition
to succeed regardless of our location.