A dying dream

There in the shadows of a heart
In the cold of a dark and lonely night
Behind the muscle, behind the smile
lies a dream, bigger than a heart can contain.
Concealed by fear and apprehension
The question is not can it come to pass, but rather
will this tamper with God’s plan?
She’s sat upon it for years and years
with one question playing in and out of her ear.
For some long periods of time,
forgetting she even had a dream inside.
Covered by the status quo and not wanting to be extreme
she goes about her daily life stuffing away a dream.
The only dream that made her life seem simple,
hides behind the complications of her circumstances...
The very thing she never wanted in life, has fed her soul, her brain, her mind
steadily draining this simple dream until she fears it will be soon washed away.
It goes quietly and quietly, fading away in the distance,
till she fears, the dream will die. Will she die away with it.
When what’s hidden in her heart is dead, will the person she deems herself to be,
the one the people around her believes is special, the smile they have depended on,
will that die with the dream, she fears.
She used to write with people in mind,
believing the words God gave her would speak life into a defeated soul,
somewhere in Maine, in Brooklyn, or Brazil; a worldwide melody that would
somehow console.
She wrote with confidence in knowing that her gift was unique. That someone would notice between every breathe in her song, every space in her words that a fresh light was being shed in an industry that was corrupted.
She writes now for herself, for the despair that her heart feels.
For the guilt she carries everyday for yet wanting her dream to be true.
She writes with her condition in mind, not really caring whether or not someone else cares.
The words sang from her mouth, she dreamt, would be the salve that healed wounds, the napkins that dried tears, the shocks that brought spirits back alive.
Now she sings to bring life to her own soul, struggling to keep that hope in front of her.
Not really knowing where her dream now holds in the eyes of God, her people, and even her own.
She had begun to tell the people lies, covering up what she really wanted to accomplish in life.
She bottled up her dream and cast it in a deep sea. But in that bottle, she now feels she cast herself with it.
She watered down her desire and purpose she had in the world, by telling folks what she wanted was much more complicated than that simple dream she used to possess.
She patterned herself after others, pursuing a dream that was not hers.
And lost her since of belonging in a cold, complicated world.
And now years have passed, time wasted, and tears shed.
What of this dream now? It is not completely dead.
Some days she wishes it was. Then it wouldn’t condemn her so.
Year after year it awakens and beckons her to follow,
But year after year after year, she still doesn’t know.
She used to know in her writing, and she used to know in her singing.
But even now the words to her songs don’t tell her anymore
if the dream is to be uncovered.
Over the years she’s stop wanting a lot of things.
Life itself have made this so.
But this one hidden dream, she can’t shake. She can’t forget how it once brought her joy and hope for the future, day and night.
Now it brings a grief, for she fears it has soon come to its end.
What’s the use of holding on to a hidden and dying dream?
Why carry on the guilt of not living up to her capabilities?
Why care anymore about those people out there whose lives would have been changed by her words?
Why want to be the beacon in an industry that is plagued?
Why hold on to a dream hidden behind impossibilities?
The God she serves is able to defy impossibilities; this she knows.
But even God himself has not to her His plan showed.
For this reason, she cannot move. There she stands with the bird in her hands pointing to the sky.
No need to keep the bird hidden in her palms.
Perhaps now it is time to let that bird go. Let him fly.
Perhaps that bird will someday find his way back to the dreamer,
to thank her and embrace her for holding on so long.
But maybe he will wander free and not appreciate the dreamer that held on to its wings.
There she stands, gripping that dream and nobody can see.
She fears she has not the strength left nor the will to hold on to her dream.
(c) 2006