Fire Leaves
Some dreams
are so strong
so real
vivid
alive
that they burn
with possibility.
Then they break
with a loud crack
from the morning sunlight
or
life crashes down
with its cruel authority
of “no.”
Yet embers remain.
Should they be revived
only to be suffocated again?
Should they be drowned
harshly
yet quickly
to alleviate any future
false hope?
Or should they be
blown on
softly
to someday
maybe
become something
that is yet unknown
but worth the perseverance
against the day?