Robert Mestre


As I sit here bathed in candle light
In contemplation of what now I write,
I wonder if I can ever compose
My fleeting thoughts into written prose?

Can dreams give way to waken words,
Restricted in meaning to define the absurd,
Yet still I labor to pen these lines
Of fantasies built within my mind.

Take my hand and allow me to lead
Through distant realms of your minds concede,
No rules but those yourself has set,
Or worries more for you to fret.

This world is yours to mold and create,
This is your throne, your magistrate,
Embrace this time, live out your dreams,
You write the definition for what your life means.
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