Storytime And Real Time

        I dream of the joys of old and wonder, wonder as my inner child soars on some swing set somewhere in a distant past. Pinecones of pine trees greet the aged child now grown up: me, encouraging my worn soul and calling to memory good times then and ones still to be.

         I am a fugitive from fear and discouragement. I am the outlaw from failure pursuing a lost joy that I seek to claim, curious as to how the joy of old can be fanned and the flames kept from suffocating to embers flickering in the soul. This is storytime playing out in thoughts and memories of mine. Once upon a time I revelled in the simple heights achieved on some old swing set that carried me to joy in the present. Once upon a time I knew the overwhelming thrill of simply driving my first car by myself. In a galaxy not so far away I delighted in my new wife and the exhilaration of being such a blessed man that she chose me to be her husband. In a galaxy called today I find hope in Heaven's retrospect given me, the real time mercies and endless second chances I know I don't deserve and take with a little more grace this time, praying to make sure they are not wasted in apathy.

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