.....The Page of Poetries.....
In the 1990's, we were really having a hard time. Sitting in the stairs
in front of our rented apartment in Tower Hills, My youngest sister Gigi and i were looking far out into the horizon, asking ourselves what tommorow have for us. The sloping street was silent far below us, and the ravine accross it is whispering the cascading waters of a small stream.
Beyond, the hills were waving white cotton tuffs of grass blossoms, slowly turning golden in the last days of summer.
They said hope was the last to leave. They were wrong....it was dreams.
Dreams were all we had on that day, and she asked me of it. Below was our conversation....
Dreams - a sonnet
what are dreams made of ?
they're made of things untrue....
what are dreams for ?
for things that never was....
if then what is their purpose ?
to fill the hearts that are lonely....
how can when they are nothing ?
then you would not know about them....
where do dreams come from ?
they come from deep inside....
what then are dreams ?
they are illusions of the mind....
i still cant understand them.
thats why they are dreams....
We were silent for a while, watching the last rays fade and the red sky make way to a deeper blue. One by one, lights flickered below, mirroring the sprakles in the sky. "first star" she said, "lets make a wish...."
"dream on...." i answered, "....that is a planet...."
A dedication to all dreamers, people who still make miracles.
for when a dream, a nothing,....dies -
returns to its emptiness, what is left are wonderful creations....
......when dreams come true......
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