When we are young we thinktime is brimming with endlessness,looking upon it with an insolent interest.We are crowded with naive wonder,that, in retrospect, is a touch frightening.Should we pay our dues for blindly trustingbecause we were deep in themisguided haughtiness of possibility?No. The world has gone ahead since then.

Now we call scrutiny tothings we once tried to mask,the scent of indifference will no longer suffice.We are singularly aware that our lives shifted,hopefully lifted, by our conscious effortsto make ourselves acquainted withthe person we’ve newly, truly invented.

The insignificant babble goes silent,the extraneous distractionsreek with tension and disappointment,and we must look inward,never deserting our daydreams,to unleash the truth.We must rapidly empty ourselvesof the mumbling pleasures ofwho we thought we were,the vacant witchery of our youth.We substitute that with speculation,the intense need of all we want to be.This, acting as the driving forceso we may inhale our faults, into extinction,embracing the experiencesthat make us struggle within,rise above the priceless momentsthat shape us enough,that promise a mountain andreveal an articulate impact, so thatour future is not curiously shuffled,but confidently decided. ______________Photo credit: Lanaya