It was a swift, shimmering thought — in my core, I felt
I was a dreamer — yet to be forgotten,
but a memorial to the ones
who knew where my heart lives.
It was a grim swallowing thought — in my head that pokes out
the senses and the words — I perceived,
I was a doubter—
to be neglected,
a remembrance no one
seizes on to.
The quick brilliance of the sun — made way to the Dreamer and the Doubter,
they smashed like an outburst;
Their natures drawn the clumps together — they won't be able to escape.
It was a collision of something — a fragment they couldn't endure;
it was both the 'hope'
the impulse to start again.
It was like a chant,
near to its precise tranquility;
They both understood,
they have to force
and what's not seen.
They were once
a song couldn't be finished — then an abrupt blast
of thoughts swirling,
it was a collision of stars
they could overcome.
It was a dream to be able to write a book, yet this little demon inside us—a hindrance playing a big part in our lives, that stops us from dreaming—from fulfilling.