Nobody Really wants to hear The hard truth of making One's dreams come true; The sweat and the swords And the numerous lost days And moments lies in the background Like a pale yellow blanket hungry for sleep.
It isn't that we Turn a blind eye To the struggle of seeing The beauty emerge from a sown seed It is just that the idea of Pushing through the filthy mud To blossom is not really worthy of the Glamour of Masked heroism.
That woman who sweats Daily to cook you meals while you Sit building the castles of spectacular grandeur. Or The man Who toils unquestioningly To see you view the world in a kinder tone .
Lie the true mechanism of our dreams.
The dream belongs to them As much as it belongs to the heart that It emerged from for without the shadows Of the nameless sacrifices of so many , Your heart wouldn't even be beating To dream .
Truth lies in failures And in the attempts And in the struggles And in the illusions of a greater Tomorrow that numerous Invisible souls had to hold onto To make today a Day worth building A dream in.
So when we dream, I think it is never For one individual alone, I think it is for the Entire world that had to adjust A little in their seats so that we could View the screen of life More clearly.
And so To see a tree As not only a spectacle of beauty But also to appreciate the wind , the sun , The mud , the storm and the music Of love that made it what it is . Is the measure of real success. For I guess without The background , the Foreground would never be Worthy Of admiration. For without the dark, Light would never