|Henry Lawson. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)|
Of the messages I've received over the months I've belonged, some have been personal stories, some far too lengthy, some advice, some requests for help. The one below came through a couple of days ago, and I was so impressed with the short piece of poetry I asked the contributor if I could post it here on the blog. He agreed. It appears he has no blog or website, which seems a shame since he clearly has something worth hearing. Read the poem and see what you think.
"And my dreams are strange dreams, are day dreams, are grey dreams,
And my dreams are wild dreams, and old dreams and new;
They haunt me and daunt me with fears of the morrow –
My brothers they doubt me – but my dreams come true. "
-from The Wander-Light
Tomorrow is a human a thing. For other minds there is only now. But not for us.
We sleep and wake and live our lives by tides and shapes of nights and days and nights.
Tomorrow is our dance; the steps of our rhythms with legs astride.
Because it's pain that teaches best, we fear the morrow. And so we should.
Yet tomorrow is the promise of a better thing.
I live now. Fears of the morrow mine are now. But my dreams too come true.
My dreams too come true.