Dreamers Burnt Or Hanged Poem by Margaret Alice

Drawn like a moth to a flame, when reading words
meant to carry the intent of an ardent poet, I’m so
relieved to be a total recluse – how could anyone
withstand such beautiful invitation to get involved
if accompanied with soulful eyes and brilliant pre-
sentation? Luckily I’m far away from anybody, all
on my own, taking care of dreams, happily enscon-
ced in sweet visions – of people I am scared, I
believe they have good intent, but I never see it
realized anywhere, wherever I look I see broken
hearts and people scared – I shall always believe
in the goodness of humanity, while full well knowing
that they have no wisdom or integrity, knowing I have
too little myself – softly crying about our shortcomings,
but enjoying the enticing light of their ideals, singing
their glorious songs with them, dreaming of meeting
souls in the afterlife who will not reject me for being
a dinosaur or a modern crocodile, unable to conform
to twenty-first century society; luckily a ban on dreams
has not yet been realized, though I suspect that literary
society and the philosophical fraternity – maybe
traditional religions also – would insist
dreamers be burnt or hanged
as soon as possible…