I dream of a life I cannot hold and it consumes me
From moments I look back – and do not get me wrong
I love those around me, wholly
The smiles of their faces and the lights that line their
Glowing eyes in nights that are otherwise intolerable
But I can’t help but yearn for something more. Atleast

That’s what he told me; that I can never be content with
What I have, so long as I keep dreaming of bigger things.
I picture myself on late night walks pondering over it
–Is that the truth? Was there a realness behind his speech?
Was I a dreamer like my father had painted me out to be?

I could never come to a whole conclusion; never yes or no
For I found that nothing is complete - everything is complex
The wind and the world and the creator which we owe
Every little decision encompasses such things, and such things
Are perhaps the toil of my mind. But as I sit here, now, below
The sky that is pouring down, I cannot help but remark to myself

Is dreaming worth death?