The Dreamer

On a different night, in a weary world,
A dreamer looked up at the clouds, they swirled,
A frantic bird hobbled through the sky,
A broken wing, struggling to fly.

The blue night-wing flell to the dirt,
Then he sputtered, “O, that hurt,”
The dreamer could not believe his ears,
He said, “This cannot be what it appears.”

“O, please help me,” the night-wing cried,
“Birds can’t talk,” the dreamer sighed,
He then glanced back up into the sky,
And into the clouds that were swirling high.

Then suddenly a fierce dragon roared,
Bursting through the clouds it wildly soared,
A heavy fire bolt slammed the solid ground,
Splashing heat and flames all around.

The dragon landed at the dreamer’s feet,
Snarling, ferocious, and impending heat,
The dragon’s span was a school bus long,
But the dreamer sighed again and said, “This is all wrong.”

“Birds don’t talk and dragons don’t fly,
They aren’t even real and I’ll tell you why,”
The dreamer commenced to prove to the dragon that he didn’t exist,
As the heat from his breath fell over the dreamer like a thickening mist.

Then he knelt down and said to the little night-wing,
“Sorry, you can’t talk but I believe you can sing,
I’m sorry you’re wing hurts, but I just know you can’t speak,
The bird spoke up, “Yes I can because I’m unique.”

“Will you help me out, my wing really hurts,”
The dreamer looked down but only heard chirps,
Then he looked up and the dragon was gone,
“Alright, I fixed that, now nothing is wrong!”

“Now I can get back to looking into heavens shroud,
And thinking of what’s behind that swirling cloud,
He seemed content now that everything was alright,
But it wasn’t over yet, this humbly different night.

As the dreamer continued to gaze deep into the sky,
A humble man in a white robe walked by,
“What is it that so captivates you?”
The man asked as he sat next to him too.

The dreamer spoke, “Aren’t those clouds interesting?
And the way they swirl as they get higher,”
“O, yes,” the man said, “But not so much as a talking night-wing,
Or a flying dragon that breaths hot fire.

That little blue bird had a badly broken wing,
But because it could talk you didn’t do a thing,
And that ferocious dragon is quite nice actually,
He just had a beam in his eye so he couldn’t quite see.

I gave you dreams dreamer, but you didn’t believe,
Now these grand dreams you will no longer receive,
I made them so real but you didn’t even try,
Now you’re stuck all alone looking at a cloudy night sky.

What you could have had was beyond those dreams I shared,
Amazing things, but you don’t seem to have cared,
You’ll know soon enough that your dreams were real, the dreams I dealt,
And I’m sorry to say that you’ll have to suffer even the very things that I once felt.

So please help the little night-bird,
And take the beam out of the dragon’s eye,
These things I showed you are my word,
And please believe, at least try.”

You would think the dreamer then would break down and say,
“I’m sorry, I’ve seen the error of my way,
I’ll help the poor, hurt, little night-wing,
I know now he can do much more then sing.”

But a quizzical look came over the dreamers face,
He stood up from the man and started to pace,
“You know, we live on a certain spot on the globe,
Where people your age shouldn’t be wearing a robe.

You say dragons are nice and that birds are unique,
I say dragons aren’t real and birds can’t speak,
You mustn’t be real either, so go away I say,”
And with those words the robed man faded away.

Then a voice pierced through the veil as if like a soft ring,
“I didn’t say that the bird was unique, no that wasn’t me, that was the night-wing,
And that dragon will now soar in someone else’s mind,
One who is deserving, and to someone who is just a bit more kind.

Please befriend the dragon, and help the night-bird,”
Those words echoed softly, but no words he heard,
The dreamer didn’t hear it and just let out a sigh,
As he continued to gaze at those swirling clouds that were up so high.

-Jacob Winterfeldt