| Thursday, August 4, 2011
so a bit of that childish optimism is back,
but so is the fatigued mind, the loss of creativity,
the springs that once nourished worlds and characters left with nothing but cracked parched sadness of what could have been if the tap had been allowed to turn, just a bit, a bit.
the mind still dares to dream, but the acceptance that they will never happen is part of the daydreams, such that fantasy and imagination have been relegated to the list of "things that waste time but are needed"
soon. Soon they will join the dump as the shards of glass cut the tender soles.
But then again, not the point.
So. Optimism.
Childish word for the childish, the foolish who still dare to hope.
Fool, you!
But yet foolishness, part and parcel of life so the child chooses to follow the path dictated, until the hatchet arrives and she is left free to hack through the wilderness she so desires to conquer.
the purple piggy oinked 4:21 AM
