Perhaps I am a dreamer, and a dreamer's dream mixed with a writer's talent can often have devastating consequences.
I wouldn't call myself a poet, had I not first called myself a dreamer— an idealist— in love with the mere thought of love and all its tragedies.
My own soul is vacant, but it's the dream that keeps my pen alive. The dream that wakes me, The dream that pains me, The dream that inspires me.
And should I stop dreaming should I go numb to thought, all such inspiration, all such pain and waking would be in vain.
All that would be left of me would be a stolen thought from a dreamer's tongue while I sat waiting in the corner, forcing my eyes closed and hoping for a dreamless sleep.
Samantha - I just saw you on Thomas' site and had completely forgotten about you. As a matter of fact, I thought you were no longer on Gather as I hadn't seen you in such a long time.
I hope everything is going well with you.
Please stop by and visit with me again sometime.
Love your poem above in your profile. I too have always been a dreamer and until not too many years ago was also living in a fantasy world. Really.
I just discovered a bunch of people pinged me ...been so busy writing poetry but just wanted to thank you very much for all of your kind words...it's always nice hearing from you..
