The Language of Lost Dreams
A poem
A poem
Once, they spoke in a tongue of pure possibility,
dreams whispering sweet nothings,
painting vibrant landscapes of what could be.
Aspirations held close to the heart, nurtured with care,
their voices rising in a cacophony of hope.
But now, they lie dormant,
their language faded to a mere echo,
a shadow of their former selves.
The ambitious dreams that plotted grand adventures
now murmur softly, resigned to the recesses of memory.
The imaginative dreams that envisioned dazzling futures
now sigh wistfully, their brilliance dimmed.
The daring dreams that mapped uncharted territories
now hum listlessly, their courage waning.
Where once there was a symphony of possibility,
there is now only silence,
save for the faint whispers of what might have been.
Yet, in the stillness, they await. patiently. persistently.
For they know, deep within,
that the language of lost dreams is never truly silenced.
It lives on, a resilient melody,
waiting to be rediscovered, reawakened, reborn.
All it takes is the courage to listen,
to hear the resonance of those once-vibrant voices.
To breathe life back into the dreams that have slipped away.
To reclaim the language of possibility, and let it soar once more.