Meditative Poetry: The Dreamer’s Hope

Meditative Poetry: The Dreamer’s Hope

They call me a dreamer;

They say I lead a meaningless life with no thoughts for the future;

They call me a time-waster because I idle the time away doing things they don’t understand,

thinking thoughts which are lost to them;

Time and Tide wait for no man, they all say;

But for me Time is no more:

Time has ceased to exist in this chaotic and pathos world our beloved Earth has become;

As for Tide – crimson with the stains of so many sacrifices, raging day to day with thundering fury;

It is chasing after man;

Suddenly consumed with passionate desire to bury man’s dreams and hopes in its foamibg brine.

And they call me worthless, too.

But I know that this is not true;

No, not so.

I am worthy! Worthy of my own dreams!

My dreams are big, and they are for real;

And my one particular dream which is to be the foundation for everlasting peace and happiness;


I carry the future of the world we peaceful citizens of this Earth would like to have –

I and others just like me;

Dreamers, all of us.

Not fighters nor commandos or soldiers of fortune,

But still, warriors in our own rights,

Soldiers of Peace, not wae.

It is true, I dream, but not for myself alone.

I dream of being a hero in a barren world;

A hero who has the overwhelming burden of being entrusted with, of all words to still carry a meaning : HOPE!

Oh yes, I carry hope within me;

A tiny but bright spark hidden within the shelter of my heart;

One pure, celestial burning ember within me.

But someday, this tiny, flickering spark will burst forth into a towering inferno which will see my dream come true:

A dream of a peaceful, serene world;

A dream of a community where Love and Compassion rule;

A dream where need for obedience rather than for sacrifices dwells;

A dream where Love is proven by actions as much as with words;

Where age does not exist and man does not strive for power;

Where those who Love do not humiliate, but protect;

A dream which will see brother and sister, mother and father, together again as a family;

And a dream where the tender and sensitive heart of a dreamer need not strive for respect and understanding from her peers.

A dream, my dream, of Live and Serenity.

A dreamer? Why, yes, I suppose that I am,

A dreamer of dreams,

Because I dare to hope.

Lynne S’s note: I still have this hope.
Lynne S’s note: I first wrote this in October 2, 1995 when I was just a wee lass. Those earlier years when I first learnt that I wanted to be a writer. Well, I know how that goes!

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: