There are some dreams from childhood that still hold a portion of magic; a piece I cling to still in adulthood. Scenes from movies or books that made me wish something beyond what I could see or feel, a hope that life was more than what meets the eye.
I treasure those dreams, hold them deep within. In the same place where I have a love of curling up with a book or drinking a hot beverage. The place where snowfall is beautiful and magical. Its a place that is fed frequently by Doctor Who and Harry Potter, shooting stars and chocolate cake. It is where my own stories are born, taking hold of these pieces and working them to form something new. It is a well into my soul.
To some it is silly and childish. Wishes and magic are nothing more than fairytales. To me, they are real. Real because I can truly feel them. Just as I can feel the sunset. It is in those moments I can revel in majesty. Adore creativity. Bask in something greater than myself. Love and Create. It is what compels me to do.
There are days my mind tells me otherwise, but my heart screams it louder. A compulsion, as addicting as breath.
It is often with abandon that I finally submit. Fear still itches, constantly nagging; it will never be enough.
Maybe, just maybe, it will all be worth while.
“The true harvest of my life in intangible- a little stardust caught, a portion of the rainbow I have clutched” Henry David Thoreau