Dreams begin at great altitudes, somewhere above the stratosphere of rumination. Though as we ascend the height of our ambitions and/or desires, gravity reminds us that to walk the path means to contradict our own flight with every step, remaining grounded as we navigate through the wilderness of our own impediments; obstructions that are themselves the consequence of our conditioning, each of us molded by the anvil and hammer of circumstance and experience.

I know this far off place well, there in the vast expanse of the heavens, I dream of paradise with the sun, clouds, and the sphere of infinite stars as my companions. But, as I become more aware of a consciousness that is in constant conflict with itself, I realize that every foregone conclusion conquered is a victory in spirit, where we are all intertwined. That is where I want to be, connected and a part of that living, breathing unity.

I began my excavation just a few years ago. I began the serious work of purging what is no longer necessary or useful; dashed hopes, unfulfilled yearning, and every manner of self-indulgent appetite, so that I could build something more than a facade of transitory pleasures. And here I am today, at the bottom of this hole I’ve dug, planting myself like a seed that will take root and aspire to such heights that dreams are manifest in the fruit and flower of my will, feeding those to whom my branches belong, no longer of or for myself, though sustained as well.

If destiny is the blossom at one’s fullest extent, I hope to be of arborescent descent, deeply rooted and climbing with the passage of time. So that Heaven and Earth at once are mine, to occupy.