And while the world seemed to hang from a thread,
so did its Children, Youth, aka Dreams
headed North, folds left bent on corners
of papers, “a future” place and a time
to be Noticed, unashamed, and inspired
by whatever outcome that shall be, Hope?
Does it live any longer or conspire
at all? It is an Imaginary Band
a mental spring and a rudder , an oar,
to paddle, to keep itself Up, Afloat.
Thus at these altitudes an Idea
of time present chronicles a history.
We came. We dreamed. We lived a day for truth.
A Dream must be handled with great caution.
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.
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