If We Are Still Dreamers

We must love with a passion not our own

Born from ages past, inherited by futures yet to come

For vessels made of clay burn in the tenderness of hands

Eager to take hold of a blessing not yet prepared to pass through fire

(For as dreamers we know nothing of what is to come

As visions reveal themselves as wild in the night

When eyes shut tight and hearts open and close

clasping hopes in the smallest of hands)

Would we still be dreamers if we knew the distance of the path before us?

Would our hearts still speak with the tenderness of birds

seeking shelter from sudden rain?

Would we still breathe each other in to make love in

Wind that pushes and pulls in directions untamed?

Would the roots of our trees continue to run deep

Bearing the sweetness of fruits made ripe only in due season?

For destinations can be reached with eyes fixated on distance

Or a journey can be embarked charted directly to the unknown

Discovering along the way,

Imaginations that push beyond the chains bound by impatient hearts

To give birth to dreams that have yet to be born in the solitude of our sleep

To fly recklessly into heights that soar beyond horizons of fear

And to land in the sunset of our love till the moon gifts us with passion not our own

From ages past inherited by futures yet to come

For it will be our journey, never the destination

That will prepare us into vessels made with tender hands

Ready to pass through fire.


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