Not All Fallen Is Lost

Once upon a time,

there stood a boy.

Moonlit by the iridescent glow above, mirrored as blue as the ocean down below.

The moon dilated as big as the spirit in his eyes.

Breaching to surface,

gasping for air as much as one can breathe,

soon the light diving back to midnight.

He ponders what future awaits, twinkling with bravery as do the stars of galaxies.

A heart as warm as the sun in autumn, and as voluminous as the universe can contain.

The boy daydreams in twilight.

Asking where universe would eventually lead him, whisks him away on a path of self revelation to a free man’s land.

A country called Neverland in his mind, with imaginary forks on the road, dreamy possibilities, and enticing danger, far beyond his reach at this point.

He brings with him a question of yet known curiosity, two bags of closeted secrecy, a doubtful tenacity for the grand adventure awaits, and a handful of raw grain of rice.

His hopes and dreams intact with the shooting stars.

One second bright, the next second dim.

Fading back into the dark canvas.

Once in a while to be seen, most times simmering within.

Processed slowly. 

For one day, shall they blossom.

The boy wishes he could fly.

Spreading his huge yet fragile wings, defying gravity and norms, claiming what could be, turning fairytale into reality.

Flipping expectations set upon him  upside down,

inside,

and out.

He wishes to overshadow the evil side of the moon.

Bringing foreground into the light, and featuring parts of him that can’t be fixed into the spotlight.

Pushing background into far distance, into darkness between the stars.

He says, he will seize shooting stars

one day.

So that more wishes can be made,

before darkness swallows them back.

Before time takes innocence.

Because not all fallen is lost..

A sheep farm on the moon is possible in Neverland.

And that a weeping man in the sea of stars is no longer a pity,

but a triumphant north star of hope,

perseverance,

and tangible dreams.

The boy was looking for answers to questions he had never dared to ask.

Yet some twenty odd years later, he found an anthem instead.

A tune that would continue to carry him through tall labyrinths made by goblins,

and binding spells casted by dark wizards, into the light.

It seems impossible after all these years,

but just one more night.

He knows he’s getting closer

to seize shooting stars.

Because not all fallen is lost.

Some will be found.