Poem: Dream

Dream like the sky has no ceiling,
Like stars are just stories you’re stealing,
Like night is a canvas still bare—
And your heart is the brush in the air.

Hold tight to the spark in your chest,
That whisper that won’t let you rest,
It speaks in the quiet, it gleams—
A language made only of dreams.

When shadows grow heavy and near,
And doubt tries to echo your fear,
Remember: the dark only seems
As deep as you silence your dreams.

So build them, though fragile they feel,
Give shape to what time can’t yet steal,
Let wonder spill out at the seams—
Your life is the sum of your dreams.

And even when roads twist and bend,
Or break where you hoped they would mend,
Keep going—no matter extremes,
For hope is the rhythm of dreams.

So never stop reaching above,
With courage and curiosity, love,
The world is much more than it seems—
If only you never stop dreaming.