Dream of Recognition

The only hope we have is to cling to the rugged surface of this earth, spinning out of control in its tiny corner of space. We must hang on for the ride, or else we may be flung afar into the darkness, hidden by the light of stars which burn too brightly.

We must try to be the best we can be, while clutching to this fragile rock. It's not easy, it never will be, and it never has been, because everything spins too fast. One day, unexpectedly, it will change direction on us, and then we must adapt by fastening ourselves to a world that's upside down.

I'm not one who can easily adapt to change, facing it with the terror of not knowing what comes next. Yet sometimes, there is a change, if only in the pattern of the thoughts that paint themselves into the forgotten corners of existence, different from the rest, which prepare us, so that we might instead embrace the change we can see coming from far off.

I'm not the hero some might hope for, I'm not the leader some might look to; I am only a dreamer, who yearns for a different tinge of light. And I'll dream about the day where I'll stand separated from the rest of the rabid crowd, waiting to pick up my guitar and start strumming a better tune, hoping that someone might recognise it.