We Dream
We know not
What ‘cool’ may be
We would rather go
And be free
Jump up
In the sky
Skip from cloud to cloud
From star to star
We touch them with the tips
Of our toes
As we bound
Free
To take a trip to the moon—
To lay our hand upon
Its crusted luminous white face
To dare a day-dream
Unreal, yet exactly how it is supposed to be
We are up at night
When the moon shines bright
Yes—we lurk
At the edges of society
Secret, unseen
Yes, we left
But to evade
Our death
We are not
The herd depicted
We work alone
At home
Don’t tell us
What we are
No one will make us sway
To their dance
To their beat
We sing the song
We dance to our own music
We work hard
Alone
To be I, not we
I, not we:
For I am me
A Dream of Writing 
I was mulling over the gradual suffocation of the rich, beautiful, and inspiring personalities of some of my friends and acquaintances, when I saw that you had posted this poem. This puts so many feelings into words. Thank you for this!
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You are welcome. I appreciate your thoughts very much. I am so happy that the poem is meaningful to you. In case you are interested, I wrote ‘We Dream’ because I was inspired by ‘We Real Cool’ by the poet Gwendolyn Brooks, in which she describes what she thinks of seven pool players. I wished to try to judge the pool players in a different way. –Stell.
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