Something I'd like to share with you that has no title:
As children we ran.
We dreamed impossible dreams.
Away in holes and tight spaces we hid.
Closed one eye and touched the sky.
We looked up instead of down.
I once dreamed an impossible dream.
It was one so sweet and perfect.
All I needed was time; to grow and plan.
It withered away, under beds and tables it waited for my return.
Behind my mind it stayed where it lives today as what could be.
They want us to know what to become, and how our time will be spent.
When such a thing is asked of me, I run for my dream.
The one thought that brings comfort to all disappear.
The future is something unknown, and unplanned.
I want to leave it that way.
It’s simple if you look.
I’m a true consumer at heart, a want to be critic, and partial hermit.
Nothing should be planned if it could be spontaneous.
That way, a million small stories could be told.
I wish for the world to be quiet.
It’s a small life so far.
The chances of it getting bigger are unknown at this point.
I have no doubt in its simplicity escaping.
For now, I’ll let the fairy’s dance and the wind blow.
Until growing ‘up’ is time.
