We dream and wonder,
thirsty for possibility–
Hungry for advance and betterment

Our dreams lie hanging,
Suspended in front of us,
Waiting to be caught,
And waiting to be trapped.

We reach out,
Capture our dreams
In the jail between our fingertips–
Confined and unseen,
No longer hanging with possibility
In front of us.

Do we wish our dreams
An eternity of hanging before us?
Do we value the act of dreaming
Over our dreams themselves?
Do we capture our dreams
And hold them in between our fingertips,
Confined and unseen?

Or do we hold our dreams–
Cherishing and nurturing them,
So they may be seen to full fruition?

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