Hold fast to dreams,
For if dreams die,
Life is a broken winged bird,
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams go,
Life is a barren field,
Frozen with snow.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams fade,
Life is like an abandoned ship,
Forsaken in the middle of a tidal ocean without a captain.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams slips away,
Life becomes a falling leaf,
From a tree in an autumn morning,
That sways from one point to another.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when your dreams ends,
You are only but a wandering ghoul,
Stocked between the boundaries of life and death.
Hold fast to dreams,
For when dreams are no more,
Life is nothing but a hopeless and rootless journey,
Engrossed with agony and sorrow.
My name is the weeping poet,
My tears are my honor,
I write not to be assessed by mortals,
I write not to be compared by any other poet,
I spill my heart on the altar of words,
Bursting the ordinances that tie the works of art to critics.
Livinus weeping poet Okechukwu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hold-fast-to-dreams-2/
