Death of Dreams of Death

 

One by one all things must go

to the past, forgotten as we grow.

 

Dreams of grandeur fall by the way

put aside for another day.

 

Time to be and time to dream

a time to plan, a time to scheme.

 

Tomorrow is another day

we put aside in lieu of play.

 

Too far gone to realize

how distant now the dreamed of prize.

 

The hunger subsides as our eyes dim

the fever cools and dies within.

 

The death of dreams, as with all

becomes the dream, the final call.

 

With no regrets, we are all called home

as we write the final line in our tome.

 

(Stoic)

 

 

 

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