Those were the days when life was a dream waiting to happen….
I wandered lonely as a cloud, and dreamt of lifelong friends, soul-stirring conversations, ever expanding networks and spheres of influence. Human beings survive on hope and imagination.
Everything that is yet to happen is beautiful. It keeps us moving towards a goal post. We know the goal post can move, but it does not stop us from moving.
“Would you like us to stop?” I hear a voice so familiar. It feels like my own.
There is no one in the room. I know it’s my conscience, and I’ll be ever grateful for it. It stops the ramblings of an old man from converting to a rant.
Risk is what is left on the table, after I’ve provided for everything. Let it remain. We need to exist with the risk of living.
Written for Prosery at dVerse