Dreams

Vast emptiness fills me  like colored paper dipped in white paint. Silence explodes from the vast landscape of emptiness. I embrace the vibration of silence rather than lose myself in the tsunami of nothing.  Many times society asks me "What do you want to be?"

The very question stirs a tornado of the question tearing through the my empty fortress. After taking its toll Im left with the question echoing in the far distance. 

I scream the answer they wish to hear back at the voice. 

Then the voices crease as if satisfied for the moment. I yell to the empty land 

 " What is a DREAM?" 

What is the shining object people must have? 

What makes a "Dream" so special? 

Silence is my answer in return. Nothing more. 

Whats so special about a dream? I think of the colorful object called "Dreams"

I think back when my mind was once filled with a colorful canvas of Dreams. The object once lived in this spacious fortress that is me. The bright shinning world it made for me.The endless colors it delivered by the gallons.I was blinded by its beauty.
Now like many things have faded over time.
Like paint on the side of the barn in the sun too long, it began to flake, and corrode. Once again showing an empty plain. Dreams are all I have to cover this blank deserted place. Even if its just for a little while. Just a little while....