I dreamt of the heavenly citadel,
high in the sun-painted clouds.
An aura of gentry bids me farewell,
urging me to remain in the crowds.

Billions of others wishing, hoping for the extreme,
that the absolute hand will grapple them;
lifting them from the depths of the communal dream.
Instead, continually, the masses are condemned.

The invitation of the future extends out universally,
but is only truly accepted by a select few.
Those who endure the pain of pulling out the sweet tooth of normalcy.
Priorities firmly placed, unable to go askew.

Disregarding the scrutinization of the impeccable,
I muster on, accepting the invitation of future eventualities.
Realizing my dream may actually be sensible,
first I must turn my dreams into realities.