On the Sill

My heart gets away from me sometimes

No, I’m not talking about love

Nor apathy, nor hatred

Simply this:

Have you ever had a dream

One bigger than you thought you’d ever think

One that makes your heart race so fast, you figure it surely must be It

Ah, that wonderful It that is so elusive

It never disappoints until you chase

And it gets away

But you’re fast

You chase

And in the end, that’s not really the point, because you’re meant to chase

You’re made for the Chase

That’s why you dream

Why it’s your dream

You’re simply chasing what’s yours

All you could be

No, what makes the Chase so daunting

Exhilarating

Terrifying

Is that the dream you’re chasing

Has a life of its own, somehow

And just when you reach out and grasp its tail

Its own adrenaline gives it speed

Like fox and a rabbit in Chase

Caught between creation and discovery

You dream the dream that grows

Like lighting and thunder and a mighty gust

And so nearly, you have it

And so nearly it slips away

And this tiring game

Is questionable

You are

Questioning

Everything.

EVERYTHING.

Because if it’s yours

Then why does it choose to run?

But now, let me shed some light and truth

Because I have a dream, too, like you

Your dream isn’t running

And you’re not falling behind

No, the dream is not a rabbit

The dream is a raindrop.

That’s right.

A raindrop.

And it’s not so scary chasing and being chased

It’s scary that you’re running down a window

The other side is so serene

But you. are. here.

This. is. yours.

So as you catch the tail of the raindrop

Just keep holding on, keep gathering the molecules

Because there is an ultimate end to the dream

And you will catch it all, my friend

If you patiently walk along side

And gather it up as you go

And you realize

You were only walking the whole time

So walk alongside your dream

Pick it up as it lets you

And in the end

Gather it up

Don’t be so afraid

Because in the end

You’ll have every drop of your dream

And more than you imagined it’d be

It’s not a Chase, but a stroll

Not a race, but pure droll

Not a tail that slips your grasp

But a collection, to your heart, you clasp

Your eager heartbeat will race still

But you can rest On the Sill

Blink

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Ponderings of a Probation Officer

The tales of juvenile probation are sometimes splendid and sometimes melancholy. This is where I have decided to dump/cope with my reflections.

T. Shaw

She writes what she speaks.

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