My past is but a dream. My present an insatiable appetite for life. My future pre-determined and out of sight.
Oh but to be young again, to begin again, to find me again. Who would I aspire to be?
Through the looking-glass, I see a mirror image of me. Free to be who I am with no preconceptions, expectations or promises to keep. Only a silent treasure chest of dreams only I can see. Only a panoramic view of what is the best I can be.
Perhaps, I would fly overseas and travel countries in poverty, recording adversity and atrocities.
Perhaps, I would study the stars and galaxies.
Perhaps, I would march in pride and diversity.
Perhaps, I would study archeology, geology or history.
Perhaps, I would be Simon or Garfunkel in Central Park in New York City.
Perhaps, I would sail alone on the open seas.
Perhaps, I would visit my native France and Italy.
A dream is a dream, but through the looking-glass I can see and be the best of what has made me.
I will continue to record life, love, and history through my poetry. My self-made dreams connecting in this irony.
Dedicated to: Trevor Edmund Mirassou and Brandon Timothy Borden, my sons.