We all have dreams, some of the past and some for the future. Some dreams became reality, some became nightmares, and some stuck in Pandora’s box.
When one leaves… one leaves a trial behind… a trial of broken dreams dispersed along a boulevard. Shards of glass, crowns of thorn, rusty nails, boulders on one’s shoulder all scattered behind us.
They leave their print, their mark upon the body and the soul. Yet, one must take this test and walk down this boulevard. Step on the glass, let your feet bleed. Wear the crown of thorn, let it prick your forehead. Walk up the mountain, try and see the top, yet the top is infinite and no one have been there.
Look behind you, see those fragments of your self, the long forgotten laughs, the stains of your tears, the previous suicide attempts, the pill, the love and the scar.
Walk alone, try and reach the end, experience life, taste the grapes of wrath along the way, love and let die, just do it.
Reach the end, shed your skin, make love to the earth, cry out last cry of joy and leave in peace.