A previously unconsidered side-effect of spending one’s life chasing dreams is the actual amount of distance that one acquires in the pursuit of a dream-worthy life.

Where have those miles gone?
Devoured by time, eternal in geography, forgotten by the mind.

Distance becomes an entity, no longer an expanse for the eye to traverse on whim, but a creature of breath and blood, sighing and seething, loving and leaving, daring one to cross it again.

A side-effect of dreaming, for no one dreams of who they are in the moment they are in, but off somewhere and foreign.
Waxing and waning.

I dare you to traverse my breadth again, you starry eyed and hopeless dreamer. I remember the you of your youth, you’re not you…you’ve been used up and bruised…but by whom?

What distance did this to you?


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