As children, the world is full of wonder. You can stare at certain things pondering how they work, watch fireflies in the grass and think they're magic, and so on. Do you ever think about how old you were when your sense of the mystical went away? Hopefully, for some of you, it hasn't left.
Writers (all artists really) have an obligation to their fellow humans. Since wonder and magic is lost to everyday toil, we are charged with bringing it back to people who have lost it. If done properly, our words can create worlds never imagined, loves never experienced, trials never faced, and dreams never dared to come to being.
We can call to the sleeping child and tell him/her it is time to come out and play, dream, imagine, hope... it's OK. There is still time to find wonder in a life that is ruled by the demands of work. Maybe, when he/she steps away from what we have created, the world will seem a bit different whether it be bigger, brighter, happier, or a bit more magical.
Love this post. So beautiful and so true. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you. I sometimes wonder how many people realize what they take away with them.
ReplyDeleteUp to sharing your poems yet?
So true. Children haven't seen the ugliness of human beings so they can look at things objectively.
ReplyDeleteSad we have to lose such a wonderful part of us when we grow. If anything, we should hold tighter to those secret pockets of joy so we may call on them when things go bad.
ReplyDelete