The Heart Dreams Poem by Nika McGuin

I believe,
that the heart
dreams of healing itself.

Upon nights of solitude,
when all is ahush
and only the stars are listening
it weaves up such pleasant scenes
to warm a soul chilled by life's injustices.

It paints pictures of yearning - in blues and pinks -
of how things used to be
and of how they could be once again
if humans would only be true to their hearts.
It sings of its woes, an inaudible tune.

With the utmost sincerity, the heart dreams
of mending all of its wounds,
righting every wrong,
so that one day it may finally sing
a new, happier song.

Regrettably, those wistful dreams
are the very knives
that shall undoubtedly
slice it asunder upon waking.
For reality, strips away all the bliss of dreaming.

The happy world
which was painstakingly forged,
dissipates into crystalline shards of nothingness
with every rising
of the sun.