Hamlet
To dream, or not to dream: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis well for the mind to picture
Worldly treasures longed for and desired,
Or to know the sting of disappointment,
And fight against it? To suffer: to dream:
No more; and by dream we say to end
The failure of wishes made upon stars,
Shooting through a once black, forsaken night.
To suffer, to dream; to dream conjures light;
Light destined to rescue a broken soul,
And deliver the pain from past mistakes,
That crawl; broken in circles overhead.
Like demons, they shadow triumphant steps,
And feed, hungrily, on each staggered breath;
With darkly smiles that congeal the spine;
Laughing, frenziedly, at a soul’s demise.
Failure ignites fear, destroys honored pride,
And cripples the power of armored dreams.
To suffer: to dream we end suffering,
And persevere with unyielding valor;
Terminating the demon’s poisoned grin,
And exile it to Beelzebub’s hell.
We steal its manipulation of fate,
And acquire strength to dream once again.
For in a dream, ambition conquers all,
And steers away unwelcome misery.
Like angels, dreams protect our fragile soul;
While guiding us through a brisk, starless night,
And conceive faith for an unknowing heart.
I know not my fate, but trust infinite dreams.
Copyright © Alaina Hartman | Year Posted 2011
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