Two weeks ago, my father gave me The Master Letters of Emily Dickinson. This reminded me of my passion for the creative. I sing. I speak. I act. I dance. I write. I live. I like. More importantly, I love. I love ALL of the above. I do not believe in setting limitations. Why settle for less when the sky is the limit?
The sky is our limit? What and why, is it then, the sky?
Thus, I ask you: why settle for less, when the mind is the limit and not at all the sky?
We create our own realities and our limitations; we control and birth entire rays of infinite possibilities, our minds’ beautiful and endless creations. Therefore and thus, there are no limitations…only our thoughts and own minds’ creations.
So, I then write:
You have inspired me. What? To write. Write what and to whom? That is a question that I find is still in bloom.
You once wrote,
The brain is wider than the sky,
For put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and now you beside
Oh the idea of the mind being wider than the sky, a true philosophy that can be questioned, for what and why? This is more a way of life, which need be applied.
Sowed in our minds, and forever planted in our hearts, your words sprout infinite pedals of possibilities, seeded with clarity and stemming from what can be dubbed as simplicity.
Perhaps today, dear Emily, this blossom of hope, idea of endless possibility scented with simplicity is seen as an overwhelming concept and a true rarity?
My dear, dear Emily, I thank you for replanting the seeds of hope that will sprout endless possibilities. May it be made into an abundance of ambrosia, so that I can drink in the sweet nectar, oozing of dreams and desires, filled with lingering scents of a fresh batch of reality. As I pour your words into my mouth, they wet my palate, quenching my thirst and curiosity. No longer ideas, now manifesting these hopes, dreams and desires, they sprout into lush blooms of possibility with a positive perspective and ever so infinite entities, larger than the limit the sky and mind can conceive. You and your words have reminded me that hope and my thoughts can be turned into realities.
Thank you, Emily.
Plant. Nourish. Grow. Sow. Reap. & Repeat.
Your seeds, now budding blossoms, once started as ideas, have successfully become beautiful bouquets filled with realities.
Thank you for this precious gift and beautiful reminder, Daddy.
I Love You.