A jug sits upon the shore,
Its glass worn smooth by waves aplenty.
Inside, a weak and far off gleam,
The reverberations of a fantasy quite a while in the past.
Its plug tight, the seal total,
A mystery kept, a commitment sweet.
Dreams encased in fluid light,
Caught stars, bound up close.
What dreams lie locked inside that glass?
A darling’s desire that happened?
A mariner’s expectation, a writer’s rhyme?
A wish for adoration, a request for time?
It holds the expectations that once took off,
Furthermore, murmurs delicate in quiet evening.
They diversion, similar to strings of gold,
Stories yet to be retold.
The container influences with back and forth movement,
A jail where lost dreams currently develop.
They whirl in colors rich and profound,
Stowed away where no eyes set out to peep.
A daily existence unlived, an opportunity not taken,
A peaceful wish, a heart mixed up.
These are the fantasies left caught inside,
Too timid to even think about sprouting, too terrified to even consider stowing away.
One long for mountains contacted by snow,
A land where twilight waterways stream.
One more long for far off oceans,
Of delicate breezes murmured through the trees.
However there it sits, upon the sand,
Bound tight, immaculate by any hand.
For in that glass, a spirit remains,
Fastened there by adoration and torment.
Maybe one day the glass will break,
The plug free, the cover will slack.
Also, dreams long held will track down their direction,
To move considering crack of dawn.
Envision then, at that point, the varieties brilliant,
As dreams unfurl in morning light.
They’d rise like stars, a sparkling stream,
Every one a long-neglected dream.
A few dreams are kept excessively protected, excessively sound,
In trusts they’re rarely lost or found.
However, dreams are intended to inhale, to develop,
To track down their wings, to fly and stream.
So as that jug floats away,
Its fantasies held tight around evening time and day,
Recall this: let dreams take off,
For packaged dreams will lose their light.
A packaged dream is protected, secure,
However, life’s excessively concise, and that is without a doubt.
So break the glass, open up the seal,
What’s more, let your heart’s actual dreams uncover.
For dreams, similar to birds, need skies to meander,
What’s more, hearts to give them life and home.
Try not to allow them to sit on quiet sands;
Release them with your own two hands.
So here’s to dreams, to dangers and fears,
To trusts that ascent past the years.
For eventually, what counts is intense —
A daily existence where dreams are free and told.
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