shouldn't I be dreaming

Lend me those pairs of legs and
those dripping drops from your forehead
and those million hearts throbbing on your limbs
those intricate moves of yours on a green canvas
those pains that pull you down to the ground
those lines you write in air, still making it visible
and those failures of yours, those distorted caricatures
those melting eyes of desire and passion

Wasn't it raining heavily when you caressed one inside?
the water purifying those dark depths of the past
Do those layers of molecules obscure your aim,
stop you from making history?

Should I be only dreaming, when the burden of life weaken my limbs?
Did I look more promising when I stamped those marks on my mossy walls?
Was I destined only for mediocrity, when I could beat one or two to find my goal?
Did those fallen leaves from my beloved tree signify symbolism?

Should I really care? When life limped on tight rope..
Blood dripping as sweat when I pawned my intellect for a few pennies
Cheering of the crowd, a masterpiece in oil on canvas
or a musical concert, all fell short before maturing.
Like a tired mountaineer, I have folded my ropes and hooks..
trying to be content with what I have not achieved..
but shouldn't I be dreaming?