I'm a man who dreams like all men dream
of mountains to conquer
places unseen
sites to escape to the happiest hours---
to retreat
to the loneliest nights
alone.
Whenever the sea storms over the land
I still dream of castles
it can't knock down---
to places unknown
hurt of any kind.
Dreams are dreams
hearts are hearts
and together they are
forever and ever---
weathering the storms of darkest night
gloom without end
when the aches and pains of emotions and feelings
cut deep the very core
of the living soul---
taking hearts and dreams and making them laugh
turning them right around
and making them cry.
Oh, how I've tried and tried to explore
of how the heart climbs and soars
to heights unknown to any man---
and how it can plunge to the lowliest depths
when even the soul
can't be much help.
But, alas!
You came along
threw out your hand
and I reached out
where the heart is safe;
and to castles we have flown
where storms can't destroy
tho' they try and they try
to knock at the door:
to get to our hearts
to pull them apart.
G. Franklin Pruitt
Published: The DeKalb Literary Arts Journal, DeKalb College, Clarkston, GA., 1979
of mountains to conquer
places unseen
sites to escape to the happiest hours---
to retreat
to the loneliest nights
alone.
Whenever the sea storms over the land
I still dream of castles
it can't knock down---
to places unknown
hurt of any kind.
Dreams are dreams
hearts are hearts
and together they are
forever and ever---
weathering the storms of darkest night
gloom without end
when the aches and pains of emotions and feelings
cut deep the very core
of the living soul---
taking hearts and dreams and making them laugh
turning them right around
and making them cry.
Oh, how I've tried and tried to explore
of how the heart climbs and soars
to heights unknown to any man---
and how it can plunge to the lowliest depths
when even the soul
can't be much help.
But, alas!
You came along
threw out your hand
and I reached out
where the heart is safe;
and to castles we have flown
where storms can't destroy
tho' they try and they try
to knock at the door:
to get to our hearts
to pull them apart.
G. Franklin Pruitt
Published: The DeKalb Literary Arts Journal, DeKalb College, Clarkston, GA., 1979