Rainbows, unicorns, butterflies, and yes even the girl next door! A spiritual bliss where the clouds part and the rays of sunshine illuminate the very ground you walk upon and the world marvels before you.
In that moment when you are holding the balloon string that takes you into the very stratosphere, and then pop goes the weasel, puff the magic dragon, and whatever you do don't look under the bed!
You have fallen from grace, and the vices of ones escape that once bound and blanketed in the solace of ones' discomfort.
Cirrostratus clouds veil till twilight haloing dawn and night. The hue prisms and the falsehood of a distorted perception falls upon the excuse for the light of truth does not lie. Aspirations turn to affixation spieling yarn of words without meaning for they have no action no effect.
The ground comes crashing in, and home is the very ground from which you lay upon. Laden eyes somberly long outwardly to one’s childhood dreams of the king of the mountain, the first kiss, the frolic of a new found puppy, and the dream of being astronaut flying to the moon only to find that being higher than three hippies living a pipedream would be as close as one would come to that childhood dreams and reaching for stars.
The sobering realization of what was and is has even lost its sting but ones undying faith of others reached out and hope was found that spires to a new found horizon. To yearn was not enough to strife against one’s self to become more than a mere wisp of what could be and become what one was meant to be.
Though floating amongst heady pink clouds, one must keep feet firmly on the ground, be it mountains or valleys, deserts or oceans, no matter the season one must be thoroughly tilled. Then the seeds that were sown breaks forth having been nourished in the light of a new dawning day.
The harboring of past sorrows of shame becomes silver linings and needs not the world to marvel, but marvels at the world one lives in.
Rainbows, unicorns, and dreams do have silver linings, and the once land of forgotten dreams and misfit toys of sons and daughters are not left in a box of lost and found. For if the lost can be found how much easier it is for the forgotten to find their way home.