I have a dream, it smells like hot apple pie and feels like the frayed seems on an old baseball. My dream sounds like a John Philips Sousa march set to the explosion of fireworks. My dream is seen on a crisp fall evening when you can count your wishes on shooting stars. My dream tastes like a sweet kiss that brings butterflies into your stomach at the close of a first date.
I want to ride my dream like a surfer at Pipeline; barreling through its tube getting the ocean's mist on my face, seconds from getting caught in its hydraulic force then having the weight of the world fall squarely back on my shoulders.
I want my dream to run me into the ground; muscles cramping, lungs burning, out of breath and covered in the smell of determination, because my dream won't quit.
My dream is big enough where I don't have to choose, because no one choice can dictate forever. My dream evolves from simple to complex--it's anything and everything on a given day.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
hey! love your blog homey. AND, couldn't help the "surfer" reference in this particular post. Seen Riding Giants? Go see it immediately if you haven't. It will make you dream bigger than you ever have before.
Riding Giants. Do it. Wink.
jeremey for president.
first of all..love you. second, love your "titles" for friends' blogs.
how is your trip? checking email etc.? Will you be posting? PLEASE DO!
Post a Comment