This is rather beautiful anyway.
We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams. World-losers and world-forsakers, Upon whom the pale moon gleams; Yet we are the movers and shakers, Of the world forever, it seems. With wonderful deathless ditties We build up the world's great cities, And out of a fabulous story We fashion an empire's glory: One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure Can trample an empire down. We, in the ages lying In the buried past of the earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing, And Babel itself with our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying To the old of the new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth.
I love the idea that each age is a dream that is dying, OR one that is coming to birth. OR. That when horrible things happen in our lives, there is always a new dream around the corner. -- Arthur O'Shaughnessy Well, that's my interpretation anyway!
Anyway, nip over to Wednesday Words at the inspirational Emma's blog. And give her some bloggy love, because she's stuck in hospital looking like an extra from Twilight. (Well, not that I've seen Twilight, or any of those films, but you get the general idea!)