old dreams

It’s a funny world this. We’re born into a world of endless possibility. Endless. The world is vast and yet smaller than one’s dreams. So we’re sent off to our institutions of learning where we’re taught the impracticality of non conforming dreams and the prudence of following socially acceptable ones and were given the tools to achieve these. At least the lucky ones are. And somewhere down the line, in the frenzy of tool gathering, the old dreams are lost, often taking the gatherer with it, for who is a man, if his dreams aren’t his own?

And as my world grew smaller, and I older, I learned what I could and could not do. The list for the latter grew and grows at a pace that is saddening. It feeds off the former with a burning hunger fed by far too many voices .If only the voices were my own. Perhaps some of them are.