“Wandering near the top of the hills, he looked out over the city. It still slept as the morning dawn was slowly lifting the sky. Breathing in the cool air, he started to realize something. He still felt the presence of the young boy who was ready to bring the sun to it’s knees. Deep underneath the layers of fear; behind the walls of self-doubt years in the making. There still lied a pair of eyes set in deep blue, filled with adventure. Bent on not only seeing the world, but changing it.
He pictured this dormant boy as a bookcase, filled with dreams & pages untouched by fear. Dust had collected on some of the shelves, true, but the books remained whole. Sometimes, on a particularly pleasant day, some of those dusty books would crack open their worn pages, sending small clouds of dust into the motionless air. He would start to feel a burning motivation; a driving desire to give it his all. Dreams forgotten, flooding his mind again.
Few moments made him feel quite this alive, save those filled with fear, or love. He smiled warmly and inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. As he let out his breath, he prayed the dormant boy would stay. Eventually, it would.
Never having left, the young boy’s heart had not abandoned him. It had simply grown older. More worn by the weight of the pain it had endured. More guarded from the hurts gathered from the passing of years. As the young man gazed briefly into the dusty books…their pages prayed he would stay. Just a bit longer than last time.”