A Rendition of Dreams and Reality

The days are all days
As much as I find when I 'find'
And my dreams are just dreams,

hope is the only hope
and the nights are only what they are.

The days are more deeper,
more than the complications
of turning cloudy and having eclipses;
The days, they died with my dreams.

And I find I was looking for
yet there are many things I’m not searching
And I don’t seek for the graveyards
though I find them in rows along riverbanks.

But when I wake up, leaving my dreams
in some unconscious state I’m not sure of
I realise the dreams are not dreams.
but the things in life I miss.



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