I once met with my old Dream
At despair stairway.
I sitted there lavishly weak;
He approached me with a scorn:” Hey!
Here you are as always vincible and lost,
Reluctant and not dare to look up the sun
Whose rays make you shade into a cave frost.
Your dreams are just dreams
Vapour the moment you them dream!
Yet dreams are for those who dare
For those who are alive
Not those who are dead-alive
dreaming to fly while their own wings cut.
Closing their eyes and on life’s grave lie.”

Socalledpoetry of Biba 2019

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