Dreams

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Dreams

Dreams

 

The hours pass so rapidly that the moments become undistinguishable.

With no apparent beginning or clear end, the days become immeasurable.

 

Both pain and pleasure are the same here, in this solitary place.

One starts where the other ends and both vanish without a trace.

 

The wisdom of the wise is worthless here and foolish thoughts prevail.

The reserves of the affluent are of no significance as nothing is for sale.

 

In this place the censored and concealed proudly display themselves.

The taboo and inviolable are unwittingly mingled with other things long time shelved.

 

Dreams are both a gift and a curse (know this) and trust them if you dare.

Always distinguishing whether blessing or burden before you choose to share.

 

 

By Eric G. Hopkins

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ESSENCEOFLOVE commented on Dreams

09-13-2011

A perfect description of dreams. Great write...........................E

Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

hopdaddy’s Poems (28)

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