Sheltered Dreams

To a certain extent, I've had the sense that dreams had a way of being protected. I think I'm finding that even as I tell others where I'm at, they are respectful of idealistic thinking, honest when necessary and definitely helpful at times. In some of my time spent reading yesterday, I found this poem which illustrates the value in supporting the dreams of friends, family members, and possibly even strangers.



Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune – without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gales is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me. --Emily Dickinson