Maybe

Maybe there is a guy out there, with crinkly smiling eyes and a hand that fits my hand, who is waiting, around the corner, to whisk me away.

I have been scared, I am beginning to see, of even playing around the edges of dreaming –

And maybe, somewhere, in chapters that have not yet been written, is a place where we’ll spend evenings locked in conversations, and nights tangled in sheets.

- because there is an ache, I think, in the act of imagining, which comes from seeing – and then losing – what you really really want.

Maybe we will cross paths on the way to the bus stop tomorrow morning; or maybe I will get distracted by an amazing new project and end up flying around the world, and we won’t meet for a few years, if at all –

And so I have played it safe, for as long as I can remember; but the pain reduction has come at such an incredibly high price. Without dreams, we lack a certain direction; and without imagination, we tend to stay with what is already known, when

Maybe I could write a book, or paint a picture, or discover that, actually, I can do something meaningful that changes a life and makes people smile –

What is already known is only the starting point –

Or maybe I could pack up my bags and go on a big adventure, just to discover what it all looks like and see what I can find–

And what is possible lies in what we dream –

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2 Responses to “Maybe”

  1. Evan says:

    I was 33 before I met my first wife – so I had spent lots of time wondering these sorts of things. I look forward to hearing about what happens for you.

  2. Heather says:

    Sometimes, these thing happen by themselves. Sometimes, you need to put yourself out there and purposefully set out to meet people who might be right for you.

    Either way, I can honestly say there is nothing I value more in this world than meeting my love.