Poem miracle

Why is the dream a song raised against the anathema attached to illusion and the derision that follows from it? The dream, far from being a denial of reality, is a permanent insurrection, for it transcends the implacable pragmatism of the real in order to open the valves of imagination. To imagine is to soar above one’s limits, to glide beyond what confines the individual in a mire, often relying on a thought petrified by the fear of freeing oneself from the incapacities assigned by the world and by one’s place within it.

To dream is to dare where the narrative is unfavorable to you, to cast off the judgments—however “expert”—in order to encounter oneself, to build not self‑esteem but rather an intimate conviction amid the tumult of this world and all the violences that accompany it.

To dream is to preserve one’s autonomy, which is far from autarky, for from this virtue of self‑assumption also emerges the humility to draw, for one’s personal maturation, on the lessons carried by other dreams just as nourishing as one’s own, so as to enrich their benefits upon one’s becoming, in spirit and in flesh, while preserving the clarity of one’s identity in a space where people so easily renounce themselves.

To dream is inseparable from the poem; it is within the poem that the unthinkable and the unimaginable—dismissed as madness—take root to confront the sharp criticism of those accustomed to the established order, whether that order crushes them or benefits them. To dream is to precede action; it is first spiritual and corporeal, a body that cuts through the materiality of things and causes like lightning, anchoring itself in the elusive future that rational feasibility still contests. For reason is sometimes defeatist—not without reasons.

To dream or to perish, to live or to die—such is the measure of the dream’s importance. Dreaming is an act of resistance, far from laziness or a cocoon of extravagant ideas, as its detractors claim. Dreaming activates possibilities often slumped under the weight of circumstances. Dreaming, once the process reaches maturity, requires silence and absence, which naturally accompany a certain restraint and a double reading of the facts that shape interactions from which no one escapes, so long as earth and space remain the dwelling place of all that lives.

To be inseminated with a dream is also to praise slowness, far from any sleight‑of‑hand of productivity, far from all sensationalism—though it may be inevitable. It is to know how to inhabit the matter of which the dream is made and to be conscious of the sacrifice required by the fact that this dream is worth confronting the status quo to which certain souls have sworn allegiance, before which the indulgence of some knows no limit. To proclaim the dream is to push away everything that exists around oneself; it is an act of rupture,