Dreams: Illusion of Reality

Dreams are but wisps of the night,

Fleeting visions, taking flight.

They shimmer like stars in the distant skies,

Yet in the morning, they often die.

For dreams are born in the mind's expanse,

A dance of thoughts, a hopeful trance.

They rise like bubbles in the stream,

Beautiful, fragile, a passing gleam.

In slumber's realm, they're vivid and grand,

A world of wonders, an enchanted land.

But when daylight breaks the spell,

We often find they didn't dwell.

Dreams are painted with hues so bold,

Yet reality can be harsh and cold.

In the waking world, they sometimes fade,

Like castles in the sand that time has frayed.

Life's constraints and earthly bounds.

Can turn dreams into fleeting sounds,

Whispers of what could have been,

But never quite fit the world we're in.

Dreams are like the morning mist,

Ethereal, elusive, often missed.

They're mirrors of our heart's desire,

But not always meant to transpire.

Yet, in their brevity, dreams hold a key,

A glimpse of what our hearts decree.

They inspire us to reach for the sky,

To spread our wings and aim so high.

Though dreams may not always come true,

They shape our journey, guide us through.

For even if they're just a gleam,

They light the path in life's grand scheme.

So, cherish the dreams that light your way,

In their brilliance, find hope each day.

For even though they may not seem,

In dreams, we discover who we dream to be.