Dream Deferred

Not the Langston Hughes poem, but a poem about a dream.

What happens to a dream
Deferred?
Or should I say,
A dream murdered?
Not quite so violently,
But one that dies,
floating down
like a leaf from
the barren limbs of
a tree?

What happens to a dream
When it dies?
I know I shouldn't sigh
Because now I look to the future with
A thoughtful mind
And can continue with what I find.

My creativity shall spurn on
Energy and I will feel
The future
float gently above
Like a dream as a feather -

So in a way,
I sense that dreams can be created
Again and again
and are pure motivators for
the present.
They are the runks
in the ladder,
the craigs that
Serve as footholds
In the mountain -

it will be easy to chip away at
This huge burden then
With the acrity of my mind -
Won't it?
To create a new one -
won't it?
A dream...
I'll carve away at this mountainside...

Then why is it that I
Still mourn for
What is so easily replaced?
I grasp at the past
Stare into the shattered
Looking glass
Wishing for the
World, topsy and turvy
As it used to be...
Because back there,
there was my dream.

There was what I thought was me,