Oldest Dream

My oldest love is the love of a dream, for love, unconditional.
My  oldest pain is drain of that dream through time.

When every step was met with failure,
Every junction found pain.

With every so called saviour, was a flaw.
Their heart could not love that would escape sleep to dream.

And so it remains that a dream is but a dream,
There is no face or saviour.

And so that river of hope was drowned in pessimism,
Distrust and disdain.

For now if that sleep were to come that could provide such a dream with some reality,
To find that the sleeper sleeps no more, nor dreams in day

That ray has long since disappeared, for fear of being made a fool again.
Never again.