In the gallery of dreams, we sketch our grand design,
With colors bright and bold, each stroke a hopeful sign.
We envision vibrant sunsets, skies of azure blue,
Yet sometimes, in our canvas, a foggy landscape grew.

The palette holds our wishes, the brush our fervent hands,
Yet shadows creep upon us, obscuring all our plans.
Fools, like stones, lie silent, their voices lost in air,
While the keen, with hearts ignited, rise up from their despair.
...