What is a dream?
They asked me when I was 8 and naive,
Being quite unperceptive about the world
I wondered if they were like paper planes
Or clouds that looked like cotton candy
I pondered if they were like the chirps heard in first light.
Now that I’ve flourished
To have a mind that’s a blend of all the colours,
I’ve discerned that a dream is a painting you paint
Believing that there’s magic in reality,
That it’s a wish your heart makes,
And that it’s a light in your life that’s brighter than any sunrise.
So I believe,
Believe in myself,
And the magic of the universe,
Spreading my wings I soar across the sky.
Setting out each day believing that I can,
Knowing without a doubt,
That we’re all made for bewildering things.