Time flies backwards when we dream;

In each invasion of the past

We meet with those who are long gone

And seek to settle gripes and scores.

But dreams never pierce the future,

That misty land of things to come.

 

To dream the future, we search out

That crammed crevasse of oddities

Where forecasts, estimations, lurk,

And fight our battles to construct

The heaps of p...

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William Wordsworth’s ‘London, 1802’, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45528/london-1802

in Italian or Petrarchan sonnet form, bemoans English society’s moral degradation and the deleterious effects of the Industrial Revolution. Wordsworth nostalgically calls on John Milton, poet and civil servant (1608-1674) to as it were, restore England to her former glory.

By way of contrast, having...

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Step inside, could this be it?

Treading carefully in a one-size fit

Barren and empty with ideas a plenty

Is this the future tempting?

 

Down with the old and familar

Leaking, stained and dissimilar

Plans and schemes fading out like a welcome dream

Sadly, this isn't what we had foreseen

 

 

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The dreams we cherish, will they come to be? In perfect worlds, all wishes would align. Yet still I wonder, as I search to see, What life will bring, and how it will define. The storms may rage, yet in their swirling mist, I catch a glimpse of light that leads the way. Each answer seems elusive, hard to grasp, But still I hope, and keep my fears at bay. Though answers fade, my hope w...

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"To fly high" -  my dream, my creed,
To touch the skies with endless speed.
Since childhood I promised to rise,
To trace the clouds, to claim the skies.

The birds I cherished, graceful, free,
Now hold a different truth for me.
They fly with no true place to be,
Just motion framed by destiny.

But I, with maps and dreams so grand,
Now confused, unsure where I stand.
What if the path I’...

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