Somewhere, tucked between the pages of your day to day thoughts, you’ve hidden away the things that are most precious to you. Tiny translucent ghosts that if left unchecked, threaten to send you into flights of fancy with no itinerary. With no plan whatsoever.
These are the hidden stars of your imagination,... constellations of fancy with uncharted stories to tell, sparkling with their secret promises. Like you, I’ve fore-sworn temptation in favor of the practical here and now. Little luxuries set aside because common sense says we must do without. So much joy, so much opportunity. Squelched.
In a moment of lucidity, I realize that I’m missing my swing at bat. The pitcher holds my star, my hair smells like the wind and I should be outrunning the ball. Instead, I haven’t looked towards the sky at all recently. And I’ve forgotten where I left my cleats.
Absolute freedom is a roller coaster ride. What if I hand over my last ticket and just climb aboard? What would I hear if I let those ghosts have their say? Will they take me for the ride of my life? Or will I just blow away with the slightest disappointment?
The dust that has gathered upon my heart has nearly swallowed my dreams. And I am guilty for sitting quietly while allowing this to be so. I should have been reading the constellations overhead. And inventing new stars.
