Paths

The dreams of a seven year old are crystalline clear, simplistic and easy.
Growing and growing.
Within reach of chubby, sticky fingers that grab for all they desire.
Proclaiming with such strength, vivacious spirit, clear intensity, absolute truth

But time changes simplicity and the realm of dreams fades away
Further and further
Imagination, creativity, magic, innocence, fairy tale beliefs slip out of a weakening grasp
The world becomes too real, too boring, too close, too rationalized, too practical.

The years roll by and we are spectators to our lives, time moves faster and faster
On and on
Suddenly we are taller and older and somehow insignificantly less wise.
There are no easy answers and the future looms near

We are told to chose a path but there is no path, not one taken, not one less traveled
Searching and searching
Reaching only cloudy nothingness and continuing to walk blind
Desiring, yearning, wanting, wishing beyond all hope to go back

Back to innocence and dreams, creativity, magical wonder and wide eyed splendor
Dreaming and dreaming
To see what that little girl knew, look in her eyes and find it, find the answers, find out
That somehow in my heart of hearts, in my childlike memory, I’ve always known

Impossibilities of all impossibilities, there is no going back, no standing still, but…
Maybe just maybe
In this all too real, practical, rational, logical, suffocating world there is still time
To dream…