Friday Excerpt: Field of Dreams

Today's Excerpt 
Field of Dreams 

Field of Dreams

Peering into the concrete garden

A destitute field of dreams

A last resting place for hope with dates of 
birth and death, but no elaboration on the time between

Did the hope planted here expire? 

Or transcend time and trials to fertilize a new generation?

Are they lying unfulfilled and dormant only to manifest as the fear 
I feel on a daily basis?

Fear to try, fear of failing, and a greater fear to succeed because of 
the consequences when everyone is watching

An uncertainty so strong that I fear my own people

A people not limited by skin color or income, but extending the 
longitude and latitude of this dimension.

In my efforts to pay homage to this field of dreams, I can’t seem to 
plant these lines of poems as fast as the dust covers the latest fallen 

As I keep watch over the field what will become of the generation assigned to watch over the dreams once I am planted in the concrete garden?

Are we destined to watch the struggles of generations past swept away in ashes to ashes and dust to dust?

Are we so mutated that we disappoint those before us because we don’t resemble their dreams or even the dreams that they saved for us?

Whispers of motivation carried by the air dance between the walking dead and the dearly departed just looking for a place to resonate

While destiny knocks the dust from its boots and keeps it pushing, because time waits for no man woman or child

Forgetting the mountaintop of yesterday that you were blessed upon

Caught up in the shallow gene pool of the right now, succumbing to the trends and fads that are below the dimension of greatness old struggles were designed to propel you into

Depending on an entire generation asleep at the wheel guided by every wind and whim

A generation that has forgotten the strength of a unit, the purpose of a plan and the honor of discipline

Untilled dreams die before their owners

Resting in solace atop the graves of those who were brave enough to not only dream, but do something with it.

As I walk away from the garden and all the emotions that it evokes, I have more questions than answers.

But one question burns hot like passion and is seared into my mind
“Who will keep the balance between the concrete jungle and the concrete garden, which both speak volumes, but never seem to say the words needed to keep dreams alive?”