Human Flowers

When nights had gone darker
I had never felt afraid
To my bed I went straight
Not to sleep or get some rest
It was just to be able to sink
In profound slumber and dreams
Where I could weave fanciful stories
And make hypotheses and antitheses
In order to flee my fake existence
Then I grew up to realize that

Dreamers have to achieve their dreams
That dreamers in this world are flowers
Blooming over a volcanic land
They are like the gentle breeze
Refreshing a hot day in summer
Amidst wars and turmoils depression
Their dreams are like stars over a wasteland
They nourish the intuition and perception
Of the desperate human soul in isolation

 Houda Boukassoula