Within

Not lost, not found

What if no one told him to dream high, so he slept thinking dreams don't exist?

He grew, a lazy soul, and could never reach for the stars, no matter how low they hung.

So many a word of probability, tied between tongue and void, he gave no chance to none at all.

Frail body that held a frail heart, not cultivated to season, starved of trail and without light.

Held by much more than a soil that wouldn't yield, he wouldn't bulge, he wouldn't try.

Undiscovered, yet a field of possibilities we may never know nor plow.