“Things you held high, and told yourself were true
Lost or changing, as the days come down for you.”
You had an image of yourself, ‘a dream you held inside your head’.
Some of it might have even been true.
A person you imagined you could become, and strove to achieve, simply wished you could be.
And maybe you got at least part way there?
Or maybe not so much, more like a suit of clothes you used to cover over the realities.
And now the years are wearing you thin, steps once sure are stumbling.
That facade worn and faded, the sagging reality visible in the tears.
Like the faded photographs, your memories are magnified or diminished.
You had believed the world was what you could make of it, but more and more you find that striving lost to the raw inertia of the masses.
The Dream buried under ever accelerating changes and a default to mearly ‘what it is’, leaving you feeling shipwrecked on an unknown foreign shore.
Opening lines by Joni Mitchell
Image is the Wareham pond, October 2023
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