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Trying for impossible.
2 years ago
Merp. I typed up a thing in a weird sleepless mania. Sometimes I get hit with really thick moments of deep thought
Children are often filled with an unfettered wonder.
They’ll hear a story about a child that can fly, and they’ll leap and hurt themselves trying to fly, themselves.
They’ll often do this many times.
They come back, bruised and heartbroken, their wonder dashed.
Many might say growing up is about that wonder dying.
An adult would be a child whose wonder has truly gone.
They look around at the world around them, and see the world as it appears to be.
They accept that, surely, the world cannot be more than they see.
Their wonder long gone and never found again because their trust was too often broken and their hopes too often dashed.
Others might say the wonder must be kept alive.
An adult can wonder just as strong as any child.
They stand out and keep trying to take flight like their old childhood stories.
They spread their arms and look heavenward, hoping time and time again for the story to retell itself.
Their wonder is alive and going strong, but their eyes never quite see the world around them.
But perhaps both could learn from the other.
Perhaps there’s nothing wrong with going out and standing in the open breeze, hoping it might take oneself away into the air, so one might learn to fly.
Sure one could fail, but where would they find themself?
They would find themself standing out in the open breeze.
Perhaps they would get to watch the sunset, or breathe a breath of fresh air.
Perhaps they would, for a moment, stand in reverence of the world around them.
To wonder, to explore what life has to offer.
To push for what might seem impossible.
Because not trying for the impossible means you might never see the bounds of what is possible.
Because you might never see the rolling peaks and valleys of the mountains if you never take a step towards the peak.
Because a life trying for what one truly wants is better than accepting what one has been given.
Because striving for a world as it should be is better than condemning it for what it is.
And because failure to reach the best is not reason enough to stop trying for the better.
I hope and wonder, truly, for a world where all gather together in solidarity for the sheer joy of it.
A world where joy and love are shared because it is a joy to share them.
A world where we do not hate, for not even hate deserves it.
A world where we know our love and our hate, our joy and our sorrow.
So, we can hold each other, and let each other feel.
To process our love, so that it will not go unheard.
To process our hate, so that it will not lash out.
To let ourselves feel what it is like to live in a place where it is safe to feel.
A world where neither flag nor history stands between two people.
And I will live for this world, even if it is never seen.
Because I refuse to dedicate my life for anything less.
Especially because of so meaningless a word as ‘impossible.’
Children are often filled with an unfettered wonder.
They’ll hear a story about a child that can fly, and they’ll leap and hurt themselves trying to fly, themselves.
They’ll often do this many times.
They come back, bruised and heartbroken, their wonder dashed.
Many might say growing up is about that wonder dying.
An adult would be a child whose wonder has truly gone.
They look around at the world around them, and see the world as it appears to be.
They accept that, surely, the world cannot be more than they see.
Their wonder long gone and never found again because their trust was too often broken and their hopes too often dashed.
Others might say the wonder must be kept alive.
An adult can wonder just as strong as any child.
They stand out and keep trying to take flight like their old childhood stories.
They spread their arms and look heavenward, hoping time and time again for the story to retell itself.
Their wonder is alive and going strong, but their eyes never quite see the world around them.
But perhaps both could learn from the other.
Perhaps there’s nothing wrong with going out and standing in the open breeze, hoping it might take oneself away into the air, so one might learn to fly.
Sure one could fail, but where would they find themself?
They would find themself standing out in the open breeze.
Perhaps they would get to watch the sunset, or breathe a breath of fresh air.
Perhaps they would, for a moment, stand in reverence of the world around them.
To wonder, to explore what life has to offer.
To push for what might seem impossible.
Because not trying for the impossible means you might never see the bounds of what is possible.
Because you might never see the rolling peaks and valleys of the mountains if you never take a step towards the peak.
Because a life trying for what one truly wants is better than accepting what one has been given.
Because striving for a world as it should be is better than condemning it for what it is.
And because failure to reach the best is not reason enough to stop trying for the better.
I hope and wonder, truly, for a world where all gather together in solidarity for the sheer joy of it.
A world where joy and love are shared because it is a joy to share them.
A world where we do not hate, for not even hate deserves it.
A world where we know our love and our hate, our joy and our sorrow.
So, we can hold each other, and let each other feel.
To process our love, so that it will not go unheard.
To process our hate, so that it will not lash out.
To let ourselves feel what it is like to live in a place where it is safe to feel.
A world where neither flag nor history stands between two people.
And I will live for this world, even if it is never seen.
Because I refuse to dedicate my life for anything less.
Especially because of so meaningless a word as ‘impossible.’
