What happens to a dream suspended, postponed, left hanging for years? Does it shrivel and die? Not exactly. It makes life unbearable until it is given an outlet, a voice, a channel so that it can become fulfilled. It does not die outright.
This is the why of this blogging, an outlet for a voice that would not die. My dream has loved paper for so long because paper gave it voice. The dream has not been silent despite decades of attempts to shush it as life happens and family emerges, is nurtured, and is grown. It does not die. Rather, it bids its own sweet time like the seed in the fertile soil that is watered sufficiently to reclaim sunlight, sunshine, and air. It buds! It blooms and blossoms.
Welcome to the first post, the maiden voyage of a fashionista's poetic escapades. Many postings will follow, hopefully, with profound thoughts that will inspire and cause a pivotal change in perspective or a little change, barely perceptible. It does not matter really. The real unabashed goal is for me to have an abunance of glorious fun doing what I love the most--writing poetry.
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