12/6/19

I think I speak far too much of time.
It seems to hold me captive.

I think it may have a hold on all of us.

The most commonly used noun in the English language is time.

Time.
It's such a funny thing to let a four letter word rule our lives.

But Time rules.
With time it's either, then, now, or soon.

But when we want it,
it's usually soon.

And when we want nothing but for it to go,
it's now.

And then is for when time makes you
pause and look back.

Then is dangerous.
Now is too much.
And soon is too slow.

Time never seems to work in our favor.

I want more time to do
Stupid things.
Silly things.
Kid things.

But time has seemingly passed by
too fast for me.
I'm stuck in a place where what I want is then
And what I want done is now.
And what I want most is coming soon.

Why are your dreams always a 'coming soon?'

Do people ever actually reach that soon?
Does anyone ever hold their dream
in their hands
and watch as it becomes now?

Or does the dream just always change?
Do we never get to hold it in now?
Or does it just stay a forever 'coming soon?'

I want to hold my dream now.
But whenever I think of what
I need to do to get it here...
It's always a soon.

I said time has passed me too fast earlier.
In those moments it seems to be taking too long.

How long does it take before
you are no longer
a adventure-hungry
little girl
with an obsession for the philosophy of the soul and stars.

In other words, how long does it take before I am not a dreamer, but instead the dream?

I want to see this fucking world.
I want to experience the love and loss of life.
And for what it's worth....
I want to hold this book in my hands.

A hardback spine that will read, "Words Are Not Wings," and those two most important words "Eliza Bright."

I want to hold that book of mine
That I slaved over, cried into.
That I fed, and nurtured.
And I want it to go out
And give some other
adventure-hungry
little girl
with a obsession for her dreams
Hope.
I want it to give her hope.

Now, I don't know where this game of time will take me.
But by the end of this
I want to have answered my questions.

Did you write the book?
Did it make it to the library's shelves?
Did you fall in love?
Did you break your heart?
Did you see the world?
What was I born to do?

So here's to the girl
who's not so little anymore: 
I hope you're well.
I hope you kept going.
I hope you got your adventure. 
I hope you got your book.
And if not,
I hope you haven't stopped trying.

And now, to our dear annoyance, Time,
I have a letter for you.

Dear Time,

I hope this letter finds you in the near future.
And I hope you realized that it was
time to stop playing this game of chase.
Though I hope you made sure it was fun.
But I'm also glad you realized,
I was losing hope.
And that it was getting hard to breath.
And so I hope you realized what
I didn't need was break.
Oh no, I hope you finally stopped
yelling 'soon' on the wind.
I hope you started yelling
'now' instead.

With hope despite it all,
Eliza Bright