all the dreamers

here lie the dreamers of reality and death
where all men have been born into perfection,
yet they are born sleeping and cold.
neither the young or the experienced
have faced the truth of life,
only the dreams with which they strive.
their lives are utopian, for they live
in the only way they can; the way they want.
they don't face what is given.
they take what is believed.

so what are we, those of the other?
when life rushes through our beds,
we wake in a curl of shivered emotion.
retracting, losing patience and will.
we fall by the wayside like garbage.
our eyes are drying up like the water
from a dreaded storm upon ourselves.
tired we are, for we once could be dreamers.

and yet, nobody realizes who the dreamers
really are behind their unreachable illusion.

all men and women are given mirrors,
tall as the sky and wide as the sea.
we see what we are,
but we fear that it is true.

-chris