Dreamers

Of late, we’ve altered the meaning of dreams,

Trivialising its definition,
Limiting its vista to fit in materialistic seams.

On close scrutiny, it would seem,
We no longer can distinguish ambition from dream.

I used to dream to escape the clutches of reality,
To disguise possibility and don an unlikely costume,
An impossible wig.
But now I’m told to ‘dream big’,
And to think about my goals in life.
But oh how vulgar is this new meaning
And how very tolerant to strife.

What if I want to touch the stars,
But can’t dare to pilot a plane.
Do I not even have the right
To gaze at star studded nights,
To wander with stardust in my steps
And leave behind starlight with every leap,
Even in my sleep?

A child doesn’t dream of being rich and famous,
He dreams of living in palatial houses made of sweets.
A teenager doesn’t pictures herself working,
And climbing corporate leaders in her sleep.
But jumps up with joy on dreaming of her ‘prince charming’,
For a single heartbeat.

So let’s not spoil the innocence of dreams,
And pollute its definition with ambitious overtones.
For a dream defies limits,
And belittles possibilities.
Ambition stays grounded,
And relies a bit too much on logic.
Oh but dreams, my darling,
Dreams are the closest we ever get to magic…