Futurist Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Futurist
I was looking into the magic box of colours
and saw a kaleidoscope of dreams ready to
be released to those with a vision.
A saw the dream of a farm hand and his
milk maid girlfriend they were getting married
and the dream was to lease a bit of land and
start a pig breeding farm. A dream measured to
the reality of what was possible.

Most dreams in the box were fanciful, the ones
one smiles about in mature years, yet worth
dreaming as it makes the dreamer aware of colours
shifting hue. Sifting through discarded dreams
I didn´t find mine, which I was glad of, because my
dream has yet to be fulfilled.