There are those who rest a dreamless sleep,
and those who dream visions of indifference,
but the dreamers who are the most important,
are the ones who's nights remain vivid and steep.
When they dream during the night,
and during the day,
with the imagination of a child,
with determination in the fight.
One sits in your class,
in your work,
in your home,
one stands on the edge of the sidewalk you pass.
They are gone in a world,
where no one else can travel,
where anything is possible,
the place where the ends are all curled.
Quite they may be,
to stay in such a trance,
unaware of the goings on around them,
what a world they must see.
They life and laugh and love,
they care and caress and cry,
they flow and frolic and fight,
with the preciousness of a dove.
High above the ground they surf,
Low underneath the rocks they tread,
Deep within the depths of the ocean they play,
Far out in the fields is their turf.
Your dreamer is here,
for even a dreamer has a dreamer,
as a lover must have a lover,
your dreamer is near.
They stand and laugh in the face of danger,
waltzing about in adventure,
reaching out to you,
someone you might call a stranger.
This may be a new life,
but this life may be anew.
This may be a different way,
but without it may be strife.
There are those who rest a dreamless sleep,
and those who dream visions of indifference,
but the dreamers who are the most important,
are the ones who's nights remain vivid and steep.
Your dreamer is waiting...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very good poem, enjoyed this.