They share much,
The extent is such,
When seen from a distance,
There is no difference;
When followed close,
No distinct those
Dissimilarities show,
From what I know.
Made out of atoms,
Without dreams are phantoms.
The dreams set apart,
The mind from the heart;
The multitude sleeps,
But someone leaps;
Jubilates or wails,
Succeeds or fails;
Shaped by the past,
They stay till the last.
One must decide,
To seek or to hide.
The lunacy the zeal,
The dreamer must heal;
And then he returns,
As he truly yearns.
The insect never blames,
The fatal flames;
In it he is killed,
But his heart is filled
With a joyful sorrow
With a bright tomorrow.