The Inoculation of Dreams: a poem

There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite passion of life. — Federico Fellini

Dreams manifest reality.

There were no radios, TVs, computers, wheels, forks, shoes, pots or pans before someone dreamed them into existence.

Turn to nature to see the absence of the artificial.

Only humans create and leave behind artifacts of their existence.

The modern world offers innumerable distractions, enticements, and shiny objects to desire.

Each of these morsels of unreality comes with a price:

time, money, or submission.

Something must be traded to obtain these things.

And being denied these wants leads to despair.

Dreams are humanity’s inoculation against despair.

When faced with an unobtainable banquet, it is easy to lose faith in oneself.

There on the other side of the looking glass — phone, computer, or TV screen –

sparkles all the “stuff that dreams are made of”.

These enticements seem so close

And yet are so far –

Just beyond reach.

And as such, they are worthless.

But oh so many sweet souls break their backs

Chasing after the metaphorical carrot on the stick.

Turn away from the reflections

In that one-way mirror of unattainable “wealth”.

Fall back in love with life.

Find the spirit that has moved with you throughout the years.

Reach out with all your heart

Embrace who, what, and where you are.

Touch the hearth of inspiration

And revel in the joyous warmth of creation.

Allow the simple dreams of youth

To inoculate your spirit

Reinvigorate your soul

Let dreams color your world once again.