Fresh Air
In my somnolence,
I dream of a world that only exists in my deepest thoughts.
A world where the firmament
stretches far beyond in its majestic blue colour
A world where even the air is pure and immaculate,
So pure that it gives you fortitude just by breathing it in.
A secret world known only to me.
That rejuvenates every cell and fibre in my body with every breathe i take-
eliminating all unwanted pollutants of doubt, shame and fear.
Foul winds may blow from time to time,
but nothing shakes or breaks-
all stays firmly rooted in its place.
though fortitude it brings,
powerlessness also comes-a-knocking.
Powerlessness brought about by reality-
NO AIR IS EVER FRESH AIR
As melancholic as it may be,
my dream will not cease to exist.
day after day it becomes more vivid
and draw closer to reality until...one day...
A dream it will be no more!
Finally, i open my eyes,
gaze up into the sky, and realize with contentment and gratitude
that the air, though not entirely fresh,
is still my air, my dream and my DESTINY....
Copyright © Sharon Chirau | Year Posted 2014
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