Heartbroken disillusioned funk.

Rewind. Play. Stop.

Rewind. Play. Pause.

Off.

Beauty, ugliness. Laughter, sadness.

Magical moments and regretful inaction.

All lingering guests remain.

Tripping and kicking at the threshold of your consciousness.

Take courage, young builder, Kick them all out!

For good.

Wipe the embarrassment off your chin.

Brush regret off the toes of your boots.

No matter how great or promising or real you think the dream,

it is dead.

It has been for some time.

It was once alive, no doubt. And it was good.

Wake up! Knock it off!

Get up off the ground, you fool. Leave this madness at once.

Open your eyes. See the stream of light just above your face.

It softly pierces the pane, dancing playfully with leafy silhouettes.

Look there! Just beyond the foggy dew.

See it rise. Slowly. Awkwardly.

There. Beyond the crooked hedgerows of recollection.

Though it wobbles and flops, it is taking flight.

Lifting slowly, sloppily, but most definitely up.

Up it goes from the eternal stream of newfound dreams.

Will you capture it? Should you?

Maybe. Possibly. I hope so. Yes?

Choose to be lucky. Let it sweep you off your feet.

Fly away and tell me what you see.