Dreams

I was always doing something, some may call it art
But it’s just selective memory against the backdrop of the heart
Still, I welcomed all the piercing arrows as some exalted counterpart
Because this was always the ending long before the start

I waited for the stars so that they could align
When they did I celebrated and played it as a sign
But the spirit crippled to the flesh like butter to a knife
And was slowly spread to nothing across the endless sky

Now it lies upon the battlefield, dealt its mortal blow
Racing to decipher if there’s anything it knows
And offer something valuable before it all disappears
But now the war is on a different field and there’s no one left to hear

So, climb up on the mountain and perch upon the top
Understand you’re something special, then understand you’re not
Feel the air grow thin around you and gasp against the wind
That says dreams are no place for living, just a place to catch a glimpse