There are no roads to my dreams
No pathways, no airways to reach them.
They are perched in the mystical land
On a hillock of perseverance
Perched on a cloud of persistence
To be reached only by penance.
Many dream the dream
But are afraid of the way to the destination.
The path is shrouded in mystery
Seemingly full of thorns
Revealing itself only to those
Who dare to walk their dreams
Those who are undaunted and unfazed
Picking the thorns, clearing the way
One step and one bend at a time
All the while keeping sight
Of the tantalizing end.
Slowly they turn the last bend
Stepping into the dreamland.