I opened my eyes and wiped away the sleep.
I had just awoke from a terrible dream.
I looked around and saw nothing but sky.
Looking down, I found myself on a bed of white.
How did I get here? I do not know.
But a feeling inside assured me I was home.
A bird flew by and looked confused,
He asked "What are you doing here? The sky is not for you."
I said I didn't know. I just woke up in this place.
Without saying a word he just flew away.
I laid there in wonder, unsure of what was next.
Am I stuck here forever? Is this my end?
And then a voice spoke, softly but sure,
It said "This is where your head's been for what some would call years."
I didn't understand. What could that mean?
Is this real? Is this still a dream?
I sat straight up on top of this cloud.
Where did that voice come from? I was the only soul around.
I heard nothing but silence and the wind in the air.
I was consumed by nothing and my mind went bare.
Suddenly I felt that something was terribly wrong.
The cloud that was under me had broken and gone.
The sky went dark and the voice spoke again.
"Don't worry dear, this is not the end.
This is your soul, you're not going insane."
And slowly I fell along with the rain.


I opened my eyes and wiped away the sleep.
I had just awoke from a life changing dream.

Father and Mother, and Me,
  Sister and Auntie say
All the people like us are We,
  And every one else is They.
And They live over the sea,
  While We live over the way,
But-would you believe it?—They look upon We
  As only a sort of They!

We eat pork and beef
  With cow-horn-handled knives.
They who gobble Their rice off a leaf,
  Are horrified out of Their lives;
While they who live up a tree,
  And feast on grubs and clay,
(Isn’t it scandalous? ) look upon We
  As a simply disgusting They!

We shoot birds with a gun.
  They stick lions with spears.
Their full-dress is un-.
  We dress up to Our ears.
They like Their friends for tea.
  We like Our friends to stay;
And, after all that, They look upon We
  As an utterly ignorant They!

We eat kitcheny food.
  We have doors that latch.
They drink milk or blood,
  Under an open thatch.
We have Doctors to fee.
  They have Wizards to pay.
And (impudent heathen!) They look upon We
  As a quite impossible They!

All good people agree,
  And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
  And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
  Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on We
  As only a sort of They!

If you can keep your head when all about you
  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
  And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!