To terminate words is that all must dream,

the many by nighttime.

Nights that are turning points

ushering us into dreams

The history of ourselves tells us of

an image of the immediate

future meant to rip our hearts

as what we fear in them

comes upon us in eventuality.

The history that has told

many of dreams blank as a board

In the dreams at night

is the provision of a commodity

to ourselves, a dream bag to our minds

A purpose to our souls

A footpath to our legs imprint

Our legs for journeys of destiny

Destiny on a road to fate’s manifest.

The last dreams we had

were mighty ones, but waking up to

the break of fulfillment, the dreams

became drowning thoughts that requested

to be headaches in place of meditation

The heights we dream

sometimes are our greatest deceit –

Dreams, the betrayals of our minds –

Sometimes the dreams we have

are actually not ours

they are for the others

sometimes the dreams for the others

are not theirs but a

mere metamorphosis of the future.

My dreams scare me,

I dodge dreams so my selfish

aspirations for greatness

becomes not the work of another.

I still fear more that my

son will one day request my

dreams, asking for the reasons

of unfulfillment. Will I look

back and recite these words

or will I look forward

and start dreaming anew

for myself or yet a man unknown?

Adebanjo Olamilekan Olamide