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There is not a day that goes by
when I do not doubt how lucky I am;
there is not a moment in a day
when I don’t want to see as much as I can-
because, in life, there is always something to do,
somewhere to go, something to learn about others
and yourself that you did not know.

Not everyone has the time, or even the inclination, to stop and think,
or to do something that they have never done-
especially if you have a family to feed, love, and support,
as best that you can, when thinking about others has to be your sole-focus;
but if you can afford, even for a few minutes of every day
to take the time or to make the time
to really see passed the bubble that surrounds you,
and digress to whomever you wish something that is on your mind,
and then watch it grow as the idea becomes too big for you
to continue to repress.

This wonderful world continues to amaze me, faze me,
embrace me, raise me, craze me, at times;
but I am always thinking about it,
I am always learning about it,
I always want the best for it-
however, no one knows what the future will turn-out like,
no one knows how individuals actions
will affect the lives of everyone on our planet-
but to save ourselves from losing ourselves,
to me, everyone- every child, every adult,
every free-thinking person of consciousness and conscience
with the means of speech-
has to be able to have their say.
To me everything that I have thought on and experienced is a day in the life;
but I know that every day, especially today, is not just another day.
Every day of life means something to someone in every way.

I am wide-awake at 1 a.m.
and I have just awoken from a dream,
in which crows and seagulls were at war with each-other
outside my bedroom window- in the sky, on the ground,
fighting for the air, the rooftops, the food to be found;
I dreamt that the crows and the seagulls were in the throws
of aerial-combat of the speed, manoeuvrability, and ferocity,
of a World War II dogfight- darting, swooping,
and attacking like winged-warriors of black and white.

4 a.m. and I am awake again.
I decide to read a book,
then I listen to some music,
then I return to my book again.
I am restless. The sun has yet to rise.
I get out of bed and decide to make myself a cup of tea-
the rooms of my home are dark, but I know this house so well
that I no longer need to rely on my eyes
to find what I can’t at first see.
I can’t remember what I was dreaming about before I woke up this time;
if I recall correctly I felt like I was still awake,
but I was definitely still dreaming-
the world looked familiar, but it didn’t make sense;
everything around me was something I felt a connection to,
but it was as if they were not mine.

Seven o’clock in the morning. I open my eyes, I close them again,
and then I open them wide, wondering whether I am awake, dreaming,
or in-between places, and I look again at my surroundings to be my guide.
Before I awoke, I dreamed that I was walking the streets of a bustling city-
not knowing where I was going, but that I had somewhere to be.
The city was full of people that I knew well,
I felt like I was walking through a memory-
everything seemed so detailed, real, clear.
I could have been dreaming, I could have been awake-
at first, it was hard to tell.
I was walking across an open square, with people standing around talking
and people sitting on benches conferring with each-other,
and no one was looking at me.
I tried to say something, but I couldn’t make a sound;
I looked to my feet and saw a notebook and a pen lying on the ground.
I picked up the pen and started to write what I wanted to say in the book,
and I realised that the notebook was already full of words and thoughts
written in blue ink and written in what looked like my hand-writing
but scattered in all directions- as if they had been shook.
Then I looked up and everyone who was looking the other way
was now watching me;
one of the women sitting on a nearby bench stood up and approached me
and took the red notebook our of my hand, closed it,
and then gave it back to me.
I was confused, disorientated,
but I wanted to know why she had just done that-
so I approached the woman who had returned to her seat,
and then I saw that she was sitting next to and talking to someone
who looked exactly like me.
I looked down at my “other-self”
to make certain I was seeing who I was seeing,
and then my other-self turned his head to look up at me,
and with a smile and a nod of his head
my dream disappeared in a flash of light
and I was opening my eyes, closing them, and opening them again.

In the morning light, as I stare out my window at the outside world,
so bright and beautiful and cloaked for now in silence,
I feel that things are not what they seem.
I get dressed, I make myself a cup of tea,
and then I muse to myself about the things that happen in between dreams.

“Speak your mind”,
“Honesty is always the best policy”,
“Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind”
“Confidence is always the cure to jealousy”-
great sentiments, good advice;
but how many people truly believe them,
how many people truly believe what they say?
How many people are honest with themselves, and with others?
How many people truly make the most out of every day?

To be heard, you have to speak out;
to accomplish something, you have to have no doubt;
to be yourself, you need only to act naturally;
to be seen, sometimes you have to become your own gallery.

Everyone has an opinion about every thing,
and most people rebel against any kind of persuasion-
an expert in behaviour would say that people are predictable,
repeating patterns that can be calculated, as if in some kind of an equation;
however, I would argue that when intense emotions are concerned
that can never be the case-
just as in great beauty we can find vulgarity,
and in chaos we can discover immense grace.

Some people internalize their emotions and thoughts-
while others shout them into the air, and paint them on walls.
Some only reveal their true-side
when they are following the exploits of their favourite team,
in their favourite sport-
while others wear their interests on their chests twenty-four hours a day,
with the ferocity of Niagara Falls.
Whether quiet, or outspoken- everybody has a voice;
whether cerebral, or brutish- our defining nature has seasons,
like a planet does; however, our real defining power lies in our gift of choice.

Unlike an animal, Human beings are not driven by instinct alone-
what fulfills us is self-preservation:
keeping alive not just ourselves, but also our peace of mind,
our justifications, and our fixations.
Some people try to hide behind hate to mask their misunderstanding;
some people retreat into cruelty when their frustrations become too demanding.

The best of us speak only when we have something worthwhile to say,
or when our voice is needed most of all;
the greatest of us act for the benefit of everyone-
giving their last breath for another, no matter the cost-
always going beyond the call.

In the long-run, honesty will always ensure loyalty-
at first, if people don’t like or agree with what has been said,
they may not believe you,
but if you hold-true to what you think and say-
they will always trust you.
In the end, when all is said and done,
if you are wrong, and you know that you are wrong,
there is no shame in voicing your disappointment and letting it show-
because it makes it clear to all that what you believed meant something to you-
and there is no harm, after which, in bowing your head low,
in acceptance, and in remembrance of the great philosopher and orator
that was Cicero.

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