Between breaths I mutter sweet reminders to myself that I’m worth more than struggle. Time seems unkind as I age still holding on to old dreams that never seem to fade.
I search for exit signs that will lead me to a space where time doesn’t matter. I hope that everything I need to see I will, so I hold on and try to be honest with myself.
I understand that every day I wake up greeted with the sunlight won’t be a good morning.
I force myself to not think about time. I tell myself to carry enough passion that will take my imagination beyond the 24 hours time gives us today.
My treasure island means that I am living my dream rather than dreaming about it.
It means not allowing bill folds to hang over my head like broken halos.
It means honoring time enough to work after hours to achieve your goals.
It means allowing the soft moonlight to glow upon my pen strokes across word kissed pages rather than closed eyes.