Little Giant Dreams: ‘streetlight, the old-fashioned kind’ – rocky

dreams are
unfortunate things,
not because of failures
but for success,
within it
lies
self-righteousness,
when I did not wish to stand
on the shoulders of giants;
I wanted to be one instead,
if only dreams were
dead,

giants do not take careful steps
but have what’s theirs
and more
while Jack climbed down
the old beanstalk,
when the rest of us
took the hard fall,
oh, to be Jack,
and claim the white-bread life
with a simple walk,
such big choices
will be my fault

and Frost wrote about such things,
two roads,
a yellow wood,
whatnot,
but I left the fork behind
and carved out my own
little,
troubled spot
with dreams that kept me stable,
night terrors too aware
hopes that kept me able
were about these woods somewhere

and so
these dreams,
such unfortunate things
have told a lie
when all about me,
there’s a love much greater
when dreams are free,
and that’s the truth
somehow unknown,
that love is giving up the dream alone
to help someone through a nightmare.

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