They said we were impractical, at best,
For dreaming of world that could not be.
But with their reasoning we weren’t impressed:
And went about to find our destiny.

There’s many focus on what is, what seems:
For without striving, there’s no fault or blame.
And true, we never found all of our dreams,
But dreaming them was pleasant, all the same,

And what remained was not that bad at all.
Impractical, improvident were we,
But happy, all the same, despite the pall
That some would cast our way, decidedly.

  But here’s the thing: which fault is really greater,
  To lose your dreams today, or wait till later?

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