Life

The Dreams of Heart

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
–   Mercutio,  Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 4

I find myself questioning and being introspective of late… the questioning hedging on a level of cynicism I haven’t had in a while yet blended with a naive hopefulness.

Perhaps it has to do with the loss of a friend, death is always cause for contemplation.

Perhaps it has to do with the concept of family, as my husband and I discuss our future with children.

Perhaps it has to do with my aspirations and my inability to see where the road leads.

In my heart of hearts I know I do not yet want to know. So instead I will dream.

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