Projecting Reality

I project that one year from now I will be sitting in a chair, in my office, looking out the window and just staring off into the majestic view that surrounds me. If I squint I swear I can see the beads of water as they drip from the orangish-yellow leaves as they float glowingly in the mornings slight breeze. A mix of seasons I would guess if pressed. I can tell you that the way that the sun reflects off of the water is mirror like. As I sit there, I know that if I were to open a window, close my eyes, and use my ears to paint a picture based off of the sounds as subtle as they may be from near or afar, I could paint a picture of a world at peace. 

I project that multiple goals that I have for this year will have been achieved or nearly achieved. I project that there will be trying days and nights that will lead to triumphant nights and days. No road easy, no path ahead clear. Prepared to recognize and operate accordingly in the realm of opportunity, relying at times if I must on nothing more than instinct and ingenuity. Within my vision my focus a banner permanently affixed. 

I project that in the coming days, weeks, and months I will arrive at destinations both mapped and unmapped. I project that along the way I will find guidance. I will find that though the directions charted may at times lead me astray, there will be no cause for panic as by doing nothing more than stilling myself and relying on the hidden compass that lays deep within my heart, wherever my presence shall be is destined for as upon arrival my soul as welcome without reservation.  

Thinking of nothing now, just frozen in the moment as I read this back to myself aloud. I project a slight sense of nervousness and slight twinge of panic. I suppose that's what it's like when against all angst and trepidation the action of letting go of all reservation pays actual dividend. The stickiness of my palms now, the goosebumps that have overtaken my skin and raised up even the tiniest of hairs on my arms, not a quick thick quip from my lips but merely the passing along of ones pursuit of a glimpse.  

A finished work. A crafting complete. Another chapter in the book.

I admit. I never forgot my dream.
I admit. I never gave up.
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