Perchance to dream? Nay, bard;
Perchance to live; to love;
To gnaw on the bone of this life;
To drink of its nectar and
To wring out the last of
Its bittersweet drops.
Death, like a fine woman,
Would neither be forced to
Rush nor kept waiting long.
Dream we must and in due time,
But until my dream comes due,
Oh, how I shall live!
Live like a boy at the fair:
Full of wonder and joy;
Excitement at life’s splendor.
To revel in much; to regret little.
Regrets are reserved for those
Who have failed to appreciate life.
And when my dreams do finally come
I shall sleep. Sleep. Sleep contentedly
Peacefully; happily, restfully…
And dream not of memories past,
Of things done and left undone,
But of greater adventures to come.