Echoes of a dream

            ECHOES OF A DREAM
As I travelled the rocky mountains,
the roads untarred, dust mingled with sweat;
As I stand by the river, and shared a drink,
with fallen leaves, herds of cattle and dead animals;
I looked up at the roaring plane above me,
and said to myself,
That bird, is going to my dreamland.
 
As I sat with my folks under the big baobab tree,
feeding our eyes on the fashion of the world;
From the only TV set that unites the village,
As I witnessed the freedom, leisure, and pleasures;
of all the shameless ecstasies,
I said to myself;
That is my dreamland.
 
As I bade farewell to my family,
dressed in white, like victors from war,
sharing hugs with tears of joy;
and pride for their only beacon of hope;
As I was lifted into the sky,
the shaking of heavy metal,
excitement, and fear of the unknown;
I touched the closest metal to me and said,
Big bird, take me to my dreamland.
 
 
As I sit in my room, weak, frail,
 like the last leaf of fall;
My room, dark, quiet, like my world;
I wish I could stop the clock from ticking.
Quiet, I need some quiet, to talk to my soul,
And inquire of my destiny.
 
Slowly, I moved toward the mirror,
and turned on the light;
The only one I need to face is my soul.
Yes, I want to see her face.
I lifted my head with a heavy heart and asked;
This is my dreamland,
But where is my dream?