The stars lit softly in my youthful eye
Promised me dreams that one day I too could
Project my light as I lay in the sky
Oh, I heard them tell me so - that I would
With her affectionate breeze in my hair
Therapy to each diminutive strand
Whenever I stood alone she was there
Every small step I took she held my hand
But now she cannot save us from its wrath.
Trapped inside what was previously known.
Feeling more foolish than when on our own,
Exploring the vast world for what she hath.
The dream was a gift of our infancy,
Lit up infront of our eyes: vacancy.
Apr 29, 2025
Apr 29, 2025 at 2:19 PM UTC
The stars lit softly in my youthful eye
Promised me dreams that one day I too could
Project my light as I lay in the sky
Oh, I heard them tell me so - that I would
With her affectionate breeze in my hair
Therapy to each diminutive strand
Whenever I stood alone she was there
Every small step I took she held my hand
But now she cannot save us from its wrath.
Trapped inside what was previously known.
Feeling more foolish than when on our own,
Exploring the vast world for what she hath.
The dream was a gift of our infancy,
Lit up infront of our eyes: vacancy.
The more that you age, the less you dream. The less nature seems beautiful, the more society seems dreadful. The more you chase the education the world chose for you, the quicker you lose yourself in stress and that fear of unsuccess.
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