I've been thinking about my future, on how I could spend a lifetime with every person I loved and hated at the same time. I've been thinking about fields and flowers and how sunshine and daylight dews grace our open faces. The feeling of the wind blowing and sunbeams setting just beyond our hoping fingertips, too eager to reach out and grab light and fire and every possible reason for openness. I've been thinking about our dreams and how the cosmos and stars will align themselves just to see the smiles hidden beneath frowning lips of ours.

We were worshippers of the celestial dreamland and were absolute believers of real wishes, a cacophony of death and wilderness does not faze our blaring hearts. Shards of glasses walked among us, piercing and bending skins to their will. If this is what nirvana feels like, we would never have ever made choices with no good reasoning. We are fragile humans but even conundrum of stars cannot break our frail spirits, for we are not worshippers of death. We are not absolute believers of hopelessness. Pity those who cannot dream of wishes when it was already given to us for free from the start. Only those who came real enough, ever made it past wishes and was able to see their wishes come to existence.

We were what our ancestors wished a long time ago, we were wishes from a period of loneliness and sorrow and hopelessness and death. We were hope.