you spend your life

You spend your life dreaming

awake only when sleeping,

dead to those who cannot hear

your throbbing heart resounding clear.

So you run away at night

to your dreams that hold you tight.

You spend your life painting

the sky that’s never waiting

for birds to fly or gales to blow

or trees their golden leaves to show.

Your brush strokes always bring to life

what no one else can see by eye.

You spend your life reading

the letters written, bleeding

off pages that you always search,

for in them, all the mirrors lurk.

You gaze upon them, glimpse your soul,

and in your heart there gapes a hole.

You spend your life. And trying,

you grasp for it while fighting.

For birds in flight and golden green

can never stay the fleeting dream

that lives at night and dies at dawn,

and so you follow when night is gone.