Those days when thoughts sweep you
off your feet, they’re the best and the worst. Sometimes I can hardly live for
living, and work is lost behind a curtain of pretense: just let me be.
Existence is beautiful, but
sometimes I think it would be easier without reality’s dull constraints nipping
at the back of my mind. Do this, do that, don’t forget, check it off the list,
procrastinate, avoid and be resigned. If there was ever something that I wanted
to do, I’d love to have a thousand days just to dwell in the glory of a job
enjoyed, without worrying about every other little task that nags me.
Sometimes those most wonderful of
days do come though, when life lets you off and allows you to take up the wings
of your destiny and soar. In the fall of the year, when cold settles in and
takes hold of the trees, I can feel it strongly, calling me, calling me. Always
the voice, it rides on the wind, echoing longingly, tempting me to run away
from obligation. Breath freezes in the stillness of a foggy morning, and the
sunlight breaks loose in late afternoon. It is a wild season, and made for
living. The lazy days of summer are gone, and the steady days of winter have
not come. There is nothing but dreams that fill that ever-changing autumn air,
whispering wishes in my ears.
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