The Liberty Of Forgotten Dream

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A labyrinthine library holds its sway, A realm of whispers, where forgotten dreams live. I wandered through its shelves, a traveler lost, Searching for a dream I once held, but forgot at what cost. The books, worn and weathered, seemed to whisper my name, Their worn pages, yellowed with age, told stories of dreams that remained. Suddenly, a strong breeze swept through the hall, Engulfing me in the darkest realm's thrall. A book fell from its shelf, and into my hands it lay, Its worn cover creaking softly, as if to say: "The Atlas of Belonging" – a title that seemed to gleam With a sense of hope and longing, a heart's deepest dream. I once held this dream, but let it slip away, Now, it's back, calling for me, its presence a longing cry I feel its chill, its gentle tug, awakening the longing in my heart, A reminder of the dream I forgot, the one that set me apart. The library's whispers grow louder, urging me to recall, The forgotten dream that once burned bright, and gave my life its all. Now, with heart aflame, and soul revived, I'll cherish this dream, and let it be my guide. In the library's depths, I've found my way, And the forgotten dream that's been waiting for