Dream Deferred ~ Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
Like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
How many deferred dreams do we have in our lives? Is that, in part, what defines happiness? The less dreams we must look on ... stuck away in a closet ... dreams we take out every so often and ponder, maybe dust off, shine up, consider ... then slowly pack away for another day ... is the key to happiness whittling away at the number of those stuffed-away dreams?
I still say that we all get older but few mature. I include myself in the 'all get older' group and continually find myself thinking some of the same thoughts and tackling the same insecurities I had at age 18, 23, 30, 34. I grow older but I am as I've always been in many respects. Now, this isn't all a negative ... I might grimace at my faults but, in the end, I like me (as all should in my oh-so-humble opinion).
But damn those packed away dreams!
Those missed opportunities.
Those worn what-ifs.
I need to do some spring (summer) cleaning and dust a few off.
Bounce them around. Stare.
One of these days, I might just keep one or two out. Watch them finally explode into something.
One of these days.