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When he was a young man, older people said to him many a time,
“You are a sweet dreamer an idiot, you can’t live by dreaming,
You must face the realty and live in the real world,
You are a sweet dreamer an idiot, you can’t live on dreaming!”
He didn’t know what the real world was like,
He didn’t know he was a sweet dreamer and an idiot either,
He plodded away ? thousands of miles away from those
Who had narrow visions and fixed ideas of an established society,
Flew over the ocean and mountains where they could not reach,
Came to work and live in a far away place where nobody knew him,
Where everybody looked different and spoke different languages,
It was tough to start anew, but nobody told him he was an idiot.
He was another stranger who came to an unknown society,
Nobody asked him about his father who died in a POW prison,
Nobody asked him about his mother who raised her children alone,
They asked his education, work experience and what he could do,
Most jobs naturally went to people who finished school there,
Job opportunities were rare and he had to start from the bottom.
Starting from the bottom was okay, climbing was a challenge,
He came across with surprising challenges he had never expected;
He lost his way home in a snow storm and nearly froze in a snow pile,
Almost died of thirst while walking barefoot in the hot deserts,
Had to walk around the marsh where alligators were waiting for him,
Spent a long time learning new things and made it through somehow.
To begin with, his dream was never to become rich and famous,
He wanted the freedom to choose, whatever possible to make a living,
Start something new with nothing, improve and make a four-star grade,
He wanted the freedom to change the course when he wanted
Without an impressive school degree or notable experience,
A life is after all, one’s creation, a chance is given only once.
Now his journey is near the end, he looks back where he has walked,
That’s neither for making sense nor judging he did right or wrong,
More a matter of satisfaction; if he is satisfied with how he lived,
Of course he wishes he could have done better than what he did,
Even though he knows he achieved nothing special to talk about,
He is satisfied with the fact that he did his best at any given time.
He knows that the end of the line is not far away,
No, he doesn’t care when it will end, only somebody knows when,
Until then he wants to keep working on another dream,
That is to write about something he doesn’t know well,
Again it takes lots of learning things he is not familiar with,
Unfortunately, he is not happy with a progress he is making.
Now he is up against the realty; many stumbling blocks from aging,
The head is too slow to respond, doesn’t digest anything new,
Physical issues ignored in the past have taken over the body and head,
His vision is misty hazy, smokey woozy, and foggy dizzy,
He lost hearing by the ear infection, he is deaf, his ears are only motif,
That also led to the inner ear vestibular disorder called vertigo,
He had been mentally unbalanced, now physically unbalanced as well,
Bubbly doubly thoughts are born and shaken out of the wobbly head,
They say the condition is a shortcut to Alzheimer or dementia,
He is gone when his cognitive ability is gone, that’s better than his wish.
No question, it’s easy to surrender and wait for the inevitable end,
Then again he was once a sweet dreamer an idiot ... still the same,
He is now dreaming of writing a story nobody has written,
That dream-mountain is thousands miles away, very far away,
It is dubious if he could ever walk close enough to the mountain,
As long as he can walk, he’d like to keep walking toward the mountain,
He walks slowly now, a step today, maybe two steps tomorrow ...
It doesn’t matter if the time runs out, that’s just another dreamer’s life.
A life is a dream, the one and the only precious dream,
He has no complaints having reached today without a guiding beam,
Should comes a day tomorrow, there will be no sorrow,
He has had enough changes, challenges and countless cringes,
Luckily he has not killed anyone, harmed noone, surely loved someone,
But his love was in vain, in tearful pain, washed out by rain,
Beautiful women are everywhere, but nobody comes near him nowhere,
Honeybees fly to colourful flowers and he has had no flowers,
His lonely life goes on but he has nothing to resent, repent, and regret,
As he can dream of burning passion and love when tomorrow comes.
Any sensibility and mobility left another day, he’ll be on cloud ninety,
His dream will be forever there, it won’t be tossed, it won’t be lost,
Although his younger days’ arrogance has been broken to pieces,
His dreams were full of fascination, revelation and appreciation,
All of which have accumulated to massive fat around the mid-section,
That’s nothing new, he is after all a sweet dreamer an idiot.
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