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Dreams Never Die
My dreams lay dead on the ground.
Shot, strangled, raped, beaten, abandoned...
They are of no more use to me.
Fire engulfs them, reducing them to ash.
Then out of the ashes rises a golden phoenix.
And he comes, baring new dreams to me.
Dreams in his beak, his claws, his feathers...
And I realize that what people say is true:
That dreams never really do die.
Instead, they wait patently inside you,
Waiting for their time to be born,
And to brought into the world,
To change it, for better or for worse.
And even if they die within you,
They are reborn again in someone else.
Because dreams never do die, never.
- Copyright by Sloane J. 2007
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