Dreams?
(Adapted from The Warrant)
Are we mere shadows of imagined dreams,
(As unsubstantial as our thoughts),
Who fade with them
Into the darkness which surrounds
Each life with vague forgetfulness,
With thoughtless disregard,
Apparent randomness, purposelessness,
Frustrated hopes, ambitions unfulfilled
And insignificance?.
So many withered dreams, like Autumn leaves,
Drop dead from us each year that seems to pass –
And soon disintegrate
To nothingness – as though they never once
Had flourished in our minds’ creative moods
And expectation’s innocence
To beautify our lives, which else had been
As starkly bare as Winter trees’
Defoliated branches.
Yet in each individual still grows
A hopeful feeling that our lives are more
Than abstract fancies
Floating rootless in the stream of time
Like dead leaves in a river’s aimless course.
Why should this be,
Unless each life potentially contains
The seed of something more substantial than
The image of a dream?.
Even the Autumn leaves serve purposes.
They fertilise the soil and, by their deaths,
Enable seeds to germinate.
Our lives are similar in their effects.
They can transmit their vital essences
To future generations
Through the intelligent embodiment
Of their ambitions’ abstract dreams and hopes:
If we believe in them.
Perhaps, like Autumn’s seeds and dying leaves,
We cannot know the fundamental truths
Of our presumed existence –
Why we appear to be alive and what,
If anything, our proper purpose is
Should we be real –
But we can ceaselessly attempt to turn
Our dreams into solid embodiments
Of what we hope to be.
We may not ever know if we are real,
Or merely shadows of imagined dreams;
But since we think
We form part of the universe which seems
To harbour our existence, we must trust
Our senses and believe
That our presumed existence has some worth
Beyond our understanding. Let that trust
Make dreams realities.
