There is no real time table for growing up. Some of us grow up and die at three, others never grow up at all. Maturation is a series of stages, of tests, of coming of age again and again and again until our souls are too full to continue.
And then we die.
To what?
To something else?
To nothing?
In between our dreams carry us onward, ever onward.
Once I woke up in a room with only a bed. No curtains on the windows. No shades, No hanging lights. Nothing in the room longer than ten inches. Even the shower had tiny towels and that day, two days after my first baby turned 18, I knew I was older. No longer an innocent if not yet mature.
My dreams changed. My life changed and it has kept on changing.
Life is but a dream.
When I grow too tired to dream who knows what will happen.
No comments:
Post a Comment