by Carlos Antonio Piñón
April 27, 2013
When you were young, you dreamt of climbing mountain tops and hopping around like astronauts do, and being that superman who shows up to use his superpowers, save all the people, and beat up the bad guy. You dreamt of midnight stars twinkling to the rhythm of your fragile heartbeat. And every now and then, you wish for a truth to be untrue, for the thousand year curse to be lifted, as if dreams could come true.
But you're growing older; superheroes don't exist; stars are limited to only astronauts; it doesn't get better than this. But listen here: you burn brighter than any star; mountaintops are like stairs to you. Perhaps you don't have laser vision, and perhaps your method of travel is on foot, but you can still fly. Each and every person on earth has a superpower, a talent that can turn a couch into a stage and pots and pans into a drum set. Those stars that seemed so distant, they're us. Our dreams, burning bright, supporting life forms in other galaxies.
Imagine that. Pick up your pieces and get out there. Run away if needed because you're not broken. You're still important and you to learn that on your own. If you don't, you'll never know of those things you read about in books, books that are your only friends, and the child in your dreams were real. But until the dreams illuminate, the story continues.