… almost everywhere I look, things seem to be falling apart and the centre is no longer holding tight. The well crafted and well stacked lie has developed cracks and the structure has come crumbling down, the well manicured and sculptured garden is all weeded up. What is happening to the world or what is happening to me? Where is the dream? Where are the dreams? Where have they gone? Where is the happy ending? What is happening to people? What is happening to me? What is happening to the world? Is this growing up? Is this reality? Is this awakening? Is this purely a part of maturing? Is the world changing?
Where is the sweet sweet euphoria? Where are the sweet expectations and projections? What happened to them? I dreamed, them dreamed, I talked, we talked, they talked. We all talked about it. But the reality I see bears no resemblance to the dreams. Who took the dreams? Where did they go? Where are they kept? Why did we have the dreams, if we were never to experience them?
My friend is lost and I am confused. But yet in the midst of it all. I must grab hope with the hardest and tightest possible grip. Not for a micro second must I lighten or ease my grip. I must see more than I see, I must see what I don’t see. I must find the dream, I must not settle. I must build the dream. I must do that! I must look where no one looks. I must look high, even higher. I must find the city where dreams are made. Where dreams live on. I must look high, even higher and higher still. There is a place where it is all beautiful and rosy. Beauty exist, it really does! Dreams come true, they really do! Good exists, they sure do! Abundance flows, it does!
It is not where I thought it would be, it did not end how I thought it would end, but it is not over. It just is not!
There is more, I have been asked to build something of beauty, with the debris of the mess I have witnessed. I have been asked to build the dream with the disappointments I have witnessed and/or experienced. What is the mortar that holds all these together? What is the foundations that keeps these structure together and stops it from crumbling again? Hope is the mortar, hope is the foundation.
It is easy, effortless you might say, to dream good dreams, positive ones, when we have never had nightmares, we have never woken up in the middle of the night, screaming our lungs out, drenched in our our sweat and holding on to the edge of the bed for our dear life. Yet good dreams we must dream.
The man we use to be, we no longer are, the man we want to be, we are not, but the man we must be, we must be. The future is our friend, now may not be so friendly, but we ride on now to get to then. We ride!
We take the fallen pieces and we build and build and build, focusing on the beautiful blueprint, the architectural drawing, the mock up. We are not of the them that draw back to perdition but of them that believe to the saving of the soul!
Beautiful Ivory 