A Fool’s Dream: This Poem Is A Beautiful Treasure
A fool’s dream today
might be tomorrow’s truth
built slowly
by the labour of the present.
But who is the liar
the one who hopes for the future
or the one who lives inside the past?
No one knows.
What can a flower do
about its fading fragrance?
Some bloom as roses,
some as lotus,
some as something unnamed.
Perhaps difference exists
to protect the uniqueness
of every living breath.
And why call anything a lie
when the whole game of existence
is a beautiful deception?
Who gave the bird its wings
if falling is the destiny
except to measure
the distance of the sky.
