Someday I want to see the world. To leave the constant sounds of cars making their rounds and various hounds barking carelessly but behind carefully drafted dark wood, possibly picket fences past midnight. To distance myself from the city lights, 5 a.m. flights flying over head, to replace the smog clouds with pure clouds while I stare indefinitely at my infinitely expanding ceiling, body strewn across my bed.
I want to explore. To trek across rivers and mountain sides as the earth opens her eyes, the sun raises and night subsides. To be where sickly skies find their remedies, airplanes are replaced with whom their wings were modeled after and crickets play their bold instinctive melody, uninterrupted. I desire to feast my irises upon wonders and spectral sights, grand or minute. Even a sigle ray of light on a flower petal, in the middle of a forest, where torrential rain has finally settled, no more windy dispute.
I want to grow. To share smiles with the toothless, to travel along with the rootless and see through the eyes of the blind. To hear the world around me as many ears cannot, old and deaf, and learn all I can until there is not a thing left.
But above all else, I desire to live. To truly live. A life like a cinematic, until my dreamy, adventurous death.
One day, I will. Someday.