I had dreams yesterday, that seemed important, then.
They were mathematical and sanguine but were not muscular.
They had no spine, no limbs, then.
They were not precise.
You must catch your dreams before they fade,
stir them like the soup of life,
eat them hot or they will dissolve like melting turnips
and escape into yesterday.
There is always time, as long as you know no better.
There is no failure in the mail, the check is always coming.
Pull the curtains draw string and watch
the debris of dreams unravel into something whole and real.
Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly – Langston Hughes