Dreams

Bring out my dreams,
In bundled stacks of papers,
Rainbow coloured, so lustrous from distance,
Skillfully- designed and wrapped,
Presented to each one of us,
Standing in queues, gazing wide open,
The labyrinth that is to break,
To come past it and win is this game.
‘Give me my dreams’, I screamed at them,
Those who carried the skeptic  box from the dominating doors of His majesty.
‘It is, dear child, for the worthy,
And you are just as spoilt as a smoker.
At the sight of those words I was infuriated,
I took the box and beat it hard,
Tried my best, exhausted and wasted,
I summoned to try one last attempt.
I closed my eyes and focused hard,
And spend some hours to my use,
My vision was finite yet I saw white,
But by the time I managed the light,
The box was gone. Someone else,
Worthy in time,
Embraced himself for this devotion he had.
In the box was nothing tangible,
And for that matter,
Nothing at all.
Yet the sight of an open big black box,
Made my dream too distant in a while,
Nightmare! it was all by chance,
That a meek tamed pet, was taken off to streets,
And killed, ruthlessly thereby!