Dreams are vain, vile creatures,
blind to everything that is not of their own making.
Strutting around, piled high with foolish nonsense and glittering promises.
But we love them anyway.
Orphaned from birth, they spend their lives searching for someone to nurture them.
We just so happen to be equipped for the job.
We ourselves are born with holes in our hearts and ghosts in our heads.
We as a species, are naturals at brave and blind perseverance.
So who is better to dream?
We don’t have much of a choice in the matter, it is what we were born to do.
We are also orphans, in a way.
Created out of sand,
so they say.
A grainy mannequin,
in the image of what we “should” be.
I’d rather just dream.