I roam around all day, soaking in all that I see, all that they make me feel. A mother’s overwhelming joy at the kick of her unborn, an artist’s marvel at his own creation, a boy’s jubilation at winning a game, a girl’s ecstasy of falling in love, an old man’s pride in watching his grandchild – smiles spreading about from one face to another, tears drying up on their own accord – these get me through my day in bliss.
A new life is conceived in the ruins of a past one. It rains until it drenches and drowns all, but then it stops. The late afternoon brings in roaring storms and deafening thunders. Even so, people dream, because of belief – they will sleep tonight, dream tonight, hope tonight as the belief persists of a new day tomorrow, a day to be embraced with replenished enthusiasm.
And me? I return to my dream-den. Igniting my lamp of wishes, a chimera of sorts some might say, as I sleep to wake the next day. The fireflies watch over me, singing lullabies of irresistible belief.