I had forgotten how terrible it is to want deeply. How can one fall after gliding firmly on the wind for so long? Impossible.
Perhaps it is inevitable. Perhaps there is a purpose to the fall, there is some truth to be gleaned from it. Otherwise the ascent of man would have been perfect, infinite, undisturbed, like a chariot of gold, carried forward by horses that never tire. Impossible.
The Dream only loses power once it is understood. Then it becomes a trinket. Holding it in your arms, are you fulfilled, or was it something else that you were after? Every great goal only becomes the stepping stone for yet another leap. Having suffered, having sacrificed, was it all worth it – to only have your chosen gift, to get to experience just a little more – that one vision, to turn it into reality.
How much are you willing to give?
A lifetime? If you die holding that dream in your heart, you must be reborn to fulfil it. Do you understand what that entails? Everyone, inevitably, gets what they want – a law as real as gravity, a mathematical certainty. But the world takes away, invariably, and the focus of want shifts. Some sorrows are unfamiliar to me – perhaps I have suffered through them already, perhaps they are yet to show themselves on the horizon. But in this very moment, I am unaware of their sting.
And so I desire something else, boldly proclaiming – I am willing to remain in hell for my dream, until I see it unfold with waking eyes. I know that when I finally have it in my hands, I will not stop, I will not be whole, and yet I still want. The dream is overwhelming, it has shattered my sanity, taking me captive. I asked for it to make me a king, and instead it has turned me into a beggar.
All others before it I conquered, but not this one. Instead, like Constantinople, I had to go around it, to consume lands elsewhere, vowing to return. I became the one who flows around the rock in my path, like a body shifting its weight away from a broken leg.
Emboldened by victories elsewhere, stronger, greater,
I will return.