Dreams That Aren’t Mine

  Ever since I was little, I’ve heard stories—of great successes, of glorious victories, of bright worlds waiting to be conquered. I was raised with the idea that dreams are our guiding light, that they are the engine of life, that we move forward through them. But over time, I began to feel that some of those dreams weren’t mine. They seemed to belong to someone else, to an image built from the expectations of others—of society, of family. They were foreign to my heart, yet I carried them like armor that protected me but also weighed me down and held me back. This was one of the most painful truths I had to accept—that many of the dreams I had chased weren’t born of my soul. They were someone else’s dreams, imposed by the outer world, by voices I heard before I had the chance to hear my own. At first, it was hard to admit this. We all want to be loved and accepted, and often we’re willing to sacrifice our own desires just to be approved. My life felt like a journey guided by map...

But is there anyone to hear?

 

Little one, it follows its inner guide,
But what fate awaits it, what will betide?
Self-destruction... a sorrowful theme,
Yet nature rebalances, it may seem.
For her, no sadness, no right or wrong,
She acts by her principles, steadfast and strong.
If only we sensed them within our core,
We wouldn't unleash what we deplore.
Humanity, with its flawed understanding,
Afflicts the planet, it's alarming.
We kill ourselves, pollute our source,
Yet nature simply reflects our course.
Will we heed the symptoms she displays?
Realize our interconnected ways?
Recognize the need for responsibility,
For everything is like the body's ability.
The physical body, it has its bound,
After showing symptoms, all around,
If not treated, problems persist,
And like the body, it ceases to exist.
So too with Earth, the signs are clear,
But is there anyone to hear?

 


 

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