Forgotten

It's been so long since I've done one of these, I wonder if I even remember how. I find myself awake, alert, and inspired at an early hour. I reflect on the word "ache." Have you ever felt something so powerful, so inexplicably consuming, that it makes you ache? You toss and turn knowing that without that something, everything else is only a second priority? Perhaps it's naive to believe that one thing can compensate for the lack of everything else, yet isn't that what we are waiting for? To be contented? So long we spend daydreaming about things that we want, yet we know that there are limits. Sometimes years of decay and erosion to the soul of our childhood give rise to doubt, fear, lethargic nature, and inhibition. We don't feel like we can ever stop that aching. A bandage here, a cover up there, but it festers into a malignant thought of "impossible." We want to believe, but everything in nature tells us that we will never get what we want. We then submit; leave behind those "childish" fantasies of how things should have been. As we do leave these ideas behind, our soul aches as we try to forget that wonderful dream. Yet is a dream always an illusion? Or perhaps a memory from our own ambitious happiness? Some drown out the murmur, making it void, a recall, defect in our plan to get over it. We toss and turn every night, reassuring ourselves that it can't be what we know it is. It must be stress, or perhaps just some bad leftovers, but in fact we refuse to dream. We no longer await the comatose and carousel, we want to get off, stay in reality, because we are safe there. No one can know, not even ourselves, what we hide in our dreams if we just put the idea out. Yet I ache. I encourage everyone to ache. Feel that sensation, that horrible pain that drives you to the near brink of insanity until you find that precious fragile dream. Feel something, give place to that hurt that seems so wrong, because it is the only home it has. Lost dreams are only thorns around a flower. Something so beautiful should not be discarded and refused, like garbage of the mental carapace. It is there to hurt, until we learn to deal with that hurt. Yes, dreams slip and fade through our fingers, but only to be planted into the ground where we stand. Perhaps we may never see full fruition, but dreams have a funny way of going from seed to tree. Though elusive at first,our dream will manifest into our true hope; our faith in the future. Letting go of that intrinsic idea, that elementary feeling of something just waiting for us, is only the limiting of our imagination to grant us a step into the room where peace itself lays rest. Don't push it away. Keep that delicate flower where it can bloom. Some dreams may seem destructive, but it is only due to negligence and impartiality. No one else can tend to that flower, and therefore it is all the more important to admire, and even dote on that small little thought. It's out there, it just hasn't found you yet, so keep looking. And that's a forgotten philosophy in a tea cup