If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same….
If you can bear to watch the things you gave your life to, break, and stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools….
If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss…..
If i may just embody this, read it as my own script, own it, hum it, when fully comprehended, and heeded, I can lay claim of the earth, one with the dust.
The good book illustrates the usefulness of
dreaming seeing dreams ‘….YOUR SONS AND DAUGHTERS SHALL PROPHESY, AND YOUR YOUNG MEN SHALL SEE VISIONS, AND OLD MEN SHALL SEE DREAMS…’ I am a dreamer, i have always been one, but is there a contrast between the two? Dreaming and seeing dreams? A dream is an illusion a vision – A noun. A dream consists of conjuring scenarios – A verb.
So which of these categories best describes me?
A thorn in the flesh, a commonly used antidote for times of adversity, despair and loss. As would be expected, it tugs along numerous expressions for jubilation and moments glorious. The gap between these two moments; highs and lows, is where I find, I easily wander to near oblivion, a dangerous impasse. If you like limbo. A fall from glory, a form of retraction, without a moment reflection on a past story and victory, can lead to earthly purgatory.
So, can my dreamer attributes conjure words, symbols, phrases that bear my flag in my valley moments?
Ever experienced a blessed moment? i mean the epitome of no eye has seen, no ear has heard no mind has conceived…. kind of blessing? I have, I know overflow. I also know overthrow. Clinging, believing it to define my genesis and cease. Thrusted back to the buried past, forced back to the attic, the jagged streets, lessons long learnt and forgotten.
Is a reluctant comprehension that rusty, mangled tools conceal new springs; like dust to dust to life my Garden of Eden?
Why this strange feeling? That of one who has never taken a leap. Oh i know, the dreamer me, a probe for dreams moderation remain, and without maim, my triumphs vis-a-vis mishaps -limbo phase- will resonate not my cup of overthrow, but remnants of my overflow, which when regurgitated, guide me down medicinal corridors of introspection.
….If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”