The Dreamsmith’s Flame

I have a dream,

Not the kind that fades at dawn,

But one that blazes in the soul

Like a star that keeps the night warm.

It sings in silence,

It burns without ash,

It walks barefoot through pain,

Yet leaves petals in its path.

I have a dream—

That a day will dawn

When the color of our skin

Shall be but a verse in the song

Of one vast humanity,

Where hearts shall rhyme

In the meter of justice,

And peace shall conquer time.

A dream that hatred,

Like dried leaves in autumn,

Shall fall from every branch of man,

And rot into forgotten soil.

That the axe of envy

Shall turn to plowshare,

And the sword of pride

Shall bloom into a prayer.

I have a dream—

Where the children of clay

Shall not be judged by caste,

Or the echo of ancestry’s way.

Where hands of every hue

Shall clasp without fear,

And the eyes of strangers

Shall weep a single tear.

A dream that roses will grow

Even in war-torn lands,

That the cries of the oppressed

Will be silenced by joining hands.

That walls of language and greed

Shall crumble into dust,

And the compass of the spirit

Shall point always toward trust.

I dream of a table

Where no one is last,

Where the beggar and king

Share the same repast.

Where bread breaks in laughter,

And cups overflow

With the wine of love

That even angels know.

I have a dream—

That one day,

Skin will no longer scream

Its ancient songs of shame.

That nations shall rise

Not in power nor pride,

But in compassion’s name.

I dream of a mirror

That shows not the face

But the soul behind it—

That temple of grace.

Where scars become art,

Where wounds turn to wings,

Where pain is the ink

That writes holy things.

Yes, I have a dream—

Where justice is not blind,

But sees with sacred clarity

The soul in every mind.

Where laws are not cages,

But gardens of truth,

Watered by the tears

Of the innocent youth.

Where no mother weeps

For her missing child,

And no child learns

That the world is wild.

Where schools teach love,

Not fear in disguise,

And every morning rises

With forgiveness in its eyes.

I dream of cities

Where silence sings,

And alleys echo

With laughter's wings.

Where no one sleeps

On the frozen floor,

And no heart hungers

At anyone’s door.

A dream that colors

Are worn with pride,

Not as boundaries

But as light inside.

Where language is music,

And every word heals,

Where the lips that cursed

Now kiss and kneel.

I have a dream

That men will no longer kneel

To golden gods and blood-stained steel.

That greed shall be exiled

From every throne,

And tyrants shall tremble

Before love alone.

Where the smoke of war

Is turned to incense,

And the flag of peace

Is our common defense.

Where the anthem of earth

Is sung by all,

Not in conquest

But in the rise after fall.

I have a dream—

That faith shall be fire,

Not in temples confined,

But in each true desire.

That every creed

Shall drink from one stream,

And the prophets shall meet

In the hush of a dream.

That no man shall rise

On another’s back,

That progress shall never

Leave empathy’s track.

That the weak shall not whisper,

But sing in the square,

And strength shall bow

To the power of care.

I dream of hands—

Brown, white, golden, black—

Braiding a future

With nothing they lack.

Of tears not from pain,

But joy unforeseen,

Of a world remade

By what love means.

Yes, I have a dream

That the fire inside

Which once built chains

Now melts the pride—

That forged them.

That the eyes once dimmed

By oppression’s shade

Now blaze like suns

In dawn’s cascade.

That every jailer

Finds the key in his heart,

And the walls we build

All fall apart.

That freedom shall echo

From every shore,

And the word “forever”

Means suffering no more.

I have a dream—

Of gardens blooming

Where bombs once fell,

Of stories told

Where silence once dwelled.

Of mothers who never

Fear their sons,

Of skies unpierced

By war-sick guns.

I dream of flags

That wave not alone,

But stitched together

Into a single tone—

The music of mercy,

The harmony of grace,

A future written

On every face.

I dream of you—

Stranger, friend, foe—

Waking up to love,

Letting hatred go.

I dream of us

Reborn in flame,

Not to burn,

But to rename—

This world as home.

This earth as kin.

This journey as sacred,

This life as wind—

That carries the seeds

Of the Dreamsmith’s flame,

That each soul tends,

And each heart claims.

I have a dream,

Not a whisper,

But a vow.

A song for tomorrow,

That starts now.

A dream of such light

That even the blind

Will see through the darkness

To the truth of mankind.

I dream.

Because I must.

Because dreams are the soil

Of all that is just.

And though thorns may come

And storms may scream—

The world shall rise

By the power of dream.