Conformity

The idea of achieving the impossible is a thrilling thing. The barriers of imposed, so called 'reality' come crashing down, they are helpless and they really don't know which way to turn. And I am standing here, looking at this apparent impossibility, and I laugh into its face, yet my laugh is not one of mockery, but a laugh nonetheless. My laughter just wants to quietly explain to the impossible, that it isn't impossible, that it isn't out of reach, that it is attainable, a dream has explained this to me, and dreams are no fool. Objects of nature, like trees, teach the spirit well, and the spirit is imbued with a certain kind of love. That kind of love that is willing to give its spirit to the overwhelming of crazy so called, impossibility. And in the mirror of the memory of my mind, I saw a young man cry, in his constriction. His strength was taken from him, and he thought that the enemy was his judgement, when the enemy was his conformity.