No sign of faith

I have all sorts of thoughts and ideas,
and you seem to be threatened
by most, if not all of them.

But thoughts and ideas alone can shake up a world only if it has no foundations.

If it’s imaginary, and resides in the clouds, above the line that reason doesn’t cross.

I have no issue with the imaginary, I think it’s a worthy companion of the ideal. And my ideas are my way of making an effort to pave the way to the ideal.

I wish I could walk up to you, while you’re sitting up there in the clouds, in the clouded part of your mind, to see all your hopes and dreams.

Then,
I could make your dream my ideal
and form ideas that,
in the end,
to your dream would lead.

But if you keep dreaming of stones
that crush me when I’m on my way,
I’ll be reluctant to stay

on this road that takes me to your cloud,
where you sit,
stubborn, close-hearted and proud,

hopeful,
but with no sign of faith.