A sort of euphoria.
The sun beating down on my back.
Breathing fully to the depths of the lungs.
Fingers combing through the coarse green blades.
Calm.
Doesn’t everyone instinctively strive for happiness?
Or is it possible to be content?
Without happiness or sadness.
Lacking distress or conscious thought.
The wind makes my hair flicker.
My heart beat, steady and complete.
The dreamer is a unique individual;
one who can believe in oneself
with little or no support
can stand against the fiercest foe
undauntedly.
The only thing that stands
between a true dreamer
and a goal
is a dreamer
who lost
hope.
there is truly
something empowering
about removing the binding
from a composition notebook;
perhaps, it is that the contents
are now able to escape
the confines that once
selfishly
held the text to the pages?
