My dreams

My dreams,
Lying on the shore
Unfulfilled pebbles.
My myopic eyes
Don't recognize,
Cannot own
Any one stone.

Those black jewels
Which could once see
The horizon at night,
The hilltop through the fog
Are screeching for vision.

'They're not what you see
They're diamonds!
Whether scattered
On the beach,
Drowned in the mines
Yet to be found,
Adorning a jewelry
Or a beating heart
They're precious
Priceless pearls'.

My feeble, fragile hands
Took some from the sand,
Through the travelling thoughts
Like a 'living dead'
Came unto a stream, got
Them gently placed  on its bed.

A voice whispered again in the air
'The fresh, tender water
Would perhaps not let them die.
Let them lie here in peace,
The rest that are drying on the shore?
Through an unknown hand of bliss
Will see their day for sure'.