Mountains

The dreamer, dreams the dreams of promises unseen,
Visions of a mountaintop too grand to conceive.
A clear night of hollow stars whisper:
An ode to the visionaries with the sights to bring bits of light,
Even if it’s only seen from their cemetery.

For most dreams are fully realized after you’re six feet under,
In the cradle of eternal slumber.
Yet still, the dreamer climbs, hands bloodied with belief,
Chasing the whispers of fate through the corridors of grief.

For what is a dream if not a ghost in waiting?
A flicker of flame in a world so grating,
Burning the unseen, unheard.
Until time engraves its name on their grave.

And so, the dreamer walks, understanding the cost.
That visions unfulfilled are never truly lost.
For even in death, their echoes remain-
A dream reborn in the blood of another’s veins.

So wake up

Climb the mountain
Take a sledgehammer to the base if you have to.
Grab the mustard seed and move that shit.
It’s ludicrous if you didn’t
Don’t think about the should’ve or would’ves, in that time you could’ve.

The little ones are watching you see the world from new heights.
So they can spot the mountains in the skies
For when someone says that their heads are in the cloud.
They can smile and think of you and be proud.
Inevitably when the world let’s them down.
They have a base on your mountain top so they won’t drown.

You’re a dreamer, dreaming is what you do.
You’re a visionary, sing that vision like a canary
You’re a climber built to overcome the obstacles
You’re a child of God, What could possibly stop you

Who lied to you?, and told you your dreams are meaningless
Who lied to you?, and said that vision is impossible
Who lied to you?, and told you that it isn’t working
Who lied to you?
Who lied to you?
Who lied to you?

I hope it wasn’t you.