What’s hope but a dream we dream half awake,
A mirage on the desert seen unbound,
Away, beyond away, a gleaming fake
Of a vision, we vision found unfound.
There’s nothing in the Hall of Time to find,
But the dreams of today and tomorrow,
And dreaming of hope, we walk in the blind;
A world of joy in a world of sorrow.
We travel with the Caravan of life,
And our journey is determined by fate;
Though we have legions of thought in the strife
To catch a hope, but we are always late.
Whether or not we take it false or true,
There’s not a hope built by the beats of rhyme;
Who can make a thing of nothing and who,
Can climb the years up till the end of time.
Who are we, where are we going ahead
Speeding, losing our days and years to fall
In the Tunnel of Time dead pushing dead,
Without hope, without choice, nothing at all.