Awoke I, and lit into a waking dreamFor but an arm’s length could I seeAnd heard a voice drifting light and sweetTo flutter down to me to meetSpoke softly, I to it did sayI know not where doeth lie the wayA lilting brush upon my cheekQuickly calmed my stomach, weakAnd led me forward, the bracing mistWrapped me tight, and by the wristDo whispers lead and thoughts caressWith unambiguous finesse.
One thousand and one days. One hundred and one goals.
Am I a masochist? Maybe I am.
All I know is: by the time this is over, nothing will be the same.
And that’s the point. To experience things I wouldn’t otherwise. To jumpstart my life and chase my dreams.
So, Day One is almost over. And this is part of my list. To keep an online account of everything that I’m doing. A journal. A blog. I need practice, obviously, and what better way to get good at something than to just jump in and do it?
Well, here goes.
Viens avec moi.
I once read that we are never the same at the end of every day. We change, every day, even if just by a small amount. We never go to sleep exactly as we woke up. Even genetically, microscopically, we've changed. we've aged. Old cells have died, new cells have been created and born. Every day, we wake up and die, but are then recreated. Interesting thought, yes?
ReplyDeleteThat is a very powerful thought. I love it!
ReplyDeleteIf you happen to remember where you read that, I would so much love to read it. (: