Note: Blogging lets you be who you never could be. It lets you create a world that detracts from reality. It lets you cast your own light on things. And to live your dreams.

He sat there, like he has done for all of time. Stroke after stroke, he paints, unfolding the scene which is fate. He smiles as every speck of paint, like a dream, falls into place.

Elsewhere, the leaf shed during the fall still yet to touch solid ground. But as the wind it rides dies, so does its descent begin. Down down down, it spirals. Dreams may take flight, but it is always only a matter of time before the truth sets in again.

A day becomes a month, a month becomes a year. Time really does fly, and before you know it, you're a hundred. But still waiting. Waiting on a dream.

I'm glad I'm living mine.