Spark of a Dream

A chime of music and visions come into view,

From times of past to times of present,

The life of the dream, so fresh, so new!

Now it passes for one in descent.

Days of freedoms, to days of duty,

Duty to house, duty to self,

For the house you must serve, gain power, ability.

At the cost, of a dreaming health.

An old guardian am I, one seeking a spark.

One who had one, before torn out was my heart.

A quiet relaxing day, using my arts at a park,

No joy, no vision, just duty, no heart.

How can I regain what was lost, my innocence?

Never can I get it back, as hard becomes my breath.

I seek to regain excitement, and life to my dream,

Before all turns cold, to twilight, and death.

There are those who wonder how I am doing... well, I am no longer excited in the dream.

My heart is lost, my soul turns cold, my friends look to me in concern.

I feel more of a burden, than a benefit.

I know I can't just desert them, I am needed, but I need as well.

It sounds selfish, but with no time for myself, and even with that time...

I find no way to concentrate... I know trouble is not far behind.

My heart lies heavy... almost broken at the last few dreams.

All I have left, is my duty to the home and to the dream.

Forgive me for writing such a tale of self-pity, and thank you for your time.

Darion Valhai Ashara

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