The Passing Days

Hidey holes and peek-a-boo

hop scotch and bases

These are the days when all one had worry about was the shadows in the corner and playground blues

where dreams were not hard fought, but made real through the minds eye and magic marker.

Where one can be an astronaut and one can hop into a box with magic wings to fly.

These were the days of youthful abandon

 

However, these days passed one by one until dreams could not be grasped as easily as one would a marker or crayon

Dreams became finicky things that remain in the heavens like a distant star.

These were the days of turmoil, the days of longing for direction, for possession

where one gazes their star and while not knowing its full potential judges whether its worth the travel

where one in an indifferent state accepts the distance, their placement and settles

these were days where the children of dreams looses their way; ignorant of impact of their laziness and lack of motivation on the days ahead of these.

 

However, as these days passed by it became evident that those who settled were never stable and those who sought, found.

These were the days of pressure and urgency

where one neglects its star for the sake of succeeding and rushes to fulfill everyday priorities and responsibilities

where the magic marker is left in the old box in the shed, for the sake of progress and efficiency

these were the days of abandon of youth

 

However, as these days passed as well, and energy and will were running low,

inspiration was struck and the star became the focus once again.

These were days of renewal and drive

where one seeks out their star with vigor and passion and the trudge is nullified by its shine

where the magic marker, while too small to be used by ones hands, still gives birth to dreams in the mind.

These are the days passion and flight

 

I do not chose one day over the other

whether the days of youthful dreams, the days rooted only in the present, the days of ambition or the days of inspiration.

Today is the day where where the youth of yesterday, the determination of today and the hope of tomorrow combine as dreams becomes goals, goals become a journey and the journey is Life.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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