Oh to dream, the mind’s fancied flight
To ponder and plan with one’s might
Hope’s future in imagined plight
As all dreams, gone in day’s full light
All that remains is fancied folly
Wrought in angst melancholy
Frowned fully in what was jolly
Weighing heavy, deathly pally
To set foot forward without path
Consented anger and hidden wrath
Trudging onward in reckless swath
Uncounted costs in mystery math
The end comes unknown, unmade
No measure, no metric, no grade
Hopes and dreams all unplayed
Oh to dream but folly stayed
Doc Rogers writes.... 
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