The dandelion sends off its seeds, hoping they'll land on the moon.

I too look up with hope in my heart, though I taste the sour cream of defeat on my tongue and my skin is scarred, thanks to my experiences.

I hear a voice whisper "The brutal winds shall tarnish all of your efforts" Deep down within me, I feel convinced that I shall still give it a try.

The field, which was once gold and brown, littered with dead leaves, is occupied by fresh green grasses.

They are so green and bursting with hope. Then the most convincing smell of victory approaches my nose.

I sniff it in, I am consoled when I see that the dandelion sends off its seeds, hoping they'll land on the moon.

My fingers triggered me to write. 

My hands were not ready, they took to flight.

My pen walked over to my paper and in rebellion, the duo walked away hand in hand.

I blinked and blinked in disbelief

Probably these blinding lights 

Did the trick.

Unsure I was about it all.

Yet when I searched and searched 

I realized they were gone.

The path seemed

endless on my journey

to realization.

Halfway there a storm

confronted me

with a shove for a hello.

I leap into the future.

Worries swarm about my mind
Like angry bees about a hive

Buzzing, hungry for fury
My heart jitters in doubt

History revives its might
resilient it becomes. Resilient.