Wow, look, another update, and so soon. Yeah, I'm bored. So I'm not all that into this intruduction thing at the moment, but I wrote this last Christmas, at the start of what was to become one crazy new year. So here it is.

Before We Looked for the Strings

Can we ever go back?

To become again what we were

When our lives weren’t so complicated

When the world held wonder

And we neither thought nor worried about tomorrow

The first blanket of winter snow held boundless joy and play

When we though only of sled-riding, and not how to get to work through the cold and ice

I loved the snow before I had to drive in it

Coming down the stairs on Christmas morning

It didn’t matter how many presents there were, or what was under all that shiny paper

Santa remembered, that was enough, proof that there was magic in the world

Tangible evidence that all that unseen and only dreamt of was possible

When even the simplest magic trick held fascination

Before we looked for the strings

Until we knew that all magic was a trick

That all the world a cloak and dagger lie

And then we knew

We understood, and took one more step on the winding road to maturity

Alas, there is no Neverland

Perhaps it isn’t wrong; it’s nothing but inevitable

But haven’t you ever wanted to go back?

Go back to the dreams you started with

To see the world through your own eyes

Long before you were the “you” you see in the mirror?

When every minute of every day was a new possibility of discovery

When you refused naptime instead of begging for it

When you believed in magic

And loved the snow

And ran for the love of the wind in your hair, not because you are late for class

Responsibility was a word that slipped right off your shoulders

Instead of sitting there like the well-known raven

Croaking “Nevermore”

When your Christmas rush involved deciding what to ask for from Santa

Trusting that your wish would be received

When thinking of family gatherings gave you a thrill of happiness, not the start of a headache

A brief moment when you only had to be in one place at a time, not three

And there were always enough hours in a day

A simpler time

A time long since past

A childhood gone, but not forgotten

Many things we have gained and lost in the passing of the years

Each minute born as the old one dies

And with each strike of the hour we have changed

We may look back, and for the briefest instant regain that self that we called “I” in days long past

But we may never again become that one; what time has changed we cannot undo

A clock clicks only forward

Maybe that’s the better way

But haven’t you ever wanted to go back?