WriterSalon is Offline

Sorry for the inconvenience

Why Would We?


By Carl Cempron

I chuckle like thunder at distant clouds of future
Knowing my passions give me resolve to do so.
Bracing for storms and accepting the unsure,
I dispose fear . My sky was supposed to grow.

But dreams slip my once tight grip in disarray
Like dry sand seeping through quivering fingers.
Ambitions, sweet as honey, now wash away.
Cold hands of reality leave me dry, fragile.

They try to mold me, create a vision of success
But they too are dry, dreams long dead.
Creativity they condemn, individuality they suppress
With rotting desires to survive, not live instead.

Do I become the stone the builder refused
Stay fixated, worn down as time flows upstream
Or rise to challenge, ambitions abused
For if we don’t try, why would we dream?

Share