The Dreamers of Dreams

That Which Can’t Be Explained (Written September 1, 2014)

It’s something that some people have,
And others just do not.
But it can’t simply be explained,
Nor trained, demonstrated, or taught.

The reader’s love of books and tales,
The poet’s love of words,
The musician’s need for notes that sing
When their words cannot be heard,

The artist’s eye for beauty fair,
The actor’s need for the stage,
The dancer’s feel for any beat
No matter what their age;

The actor, the artist, the dancer,
The reader, musician, and poet,
Each feels a yearning for what they do
And outsiders can’t hope to know it.

So, here I am, actually writing about something that happened during my day. Aren’t I amazing? Does is actually feel like you are reading a journal? No? Oh well. Anywho!
I am taking a music appreciation class this year, right? I might have mentioned it before. Well, in this class, the first assignment we were given was to write one page, handwritten, on a musical event that made an impact in our lives. Now, if you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you might have noticed that music is sort of important to me. Just a little bit. So, how am I supposed to pick a single moment out of a million others?

I could, at this point, go on about all the different events that come to mind, but that would take up a long time, and the stories fall a little flat when you are unfamiliar with the background, which would take a long time to explain. So, basically, I am being extremely lazy. Anywho.

The poem! If you are any form of artist you probably know the feeling I was attempting to express. People tend to look at you just a little strange when you talk about what you love. When I talk about stories people tend to get this glazed over look in their eyes, or they’ll try to explain to me how I aught to feel about it. *rolls eyes* What a stupid thing to think you could do! Tell somebody how they should feel about what they love.  People who don’t feel the same way you do in these sorts of things rarely can understand you. You know? It is frustrating, but I guess that is only to be expected. They’ve never felt that way, so how could they possibly understand? That is why people who feel this way end up being a particular sort of friend to one another. And those friends are, to me at least, the most special. C=

So this is to people like that. To the music makers. To the dreamers of dreams. Really, the best way to say it has already been said, so why should I bother saying it differently? The quote will suffice:

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,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.


3 thoughts on “The Dreamers of Dreams

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