Possibilities: Attainable

It is a realm

Of seas darker than the urchins that hide in it,

Of colours that are seeped in their own pride,

Of creatures whose hoof-beats reverberate against a frozen sun,

Of delights carved from childhood fantasies and borne not of adult anguishes.

It is a realm

Of endless books on Robespierre and the arcane,

Of statues of marble and gauze, and papier-mâché,

Of laughter and loquacious echoes of the voices of younger girls,

Of stories half-forgotten but fully written.

It is a realm

Of people,

Of things, not material, not immaterial,

Of joys trivial and sorrows bone-crushing but pleasurable,

Of lives unlived not because of a lack of opportunity but attempt.

It is a realm

Of possibilities

That are perhaps not endless or infinite, or even beyond counting.

But of possibilities that are small enough to be held in the clammy palms of a toddler and the withering fingers of an ancient.

But of possibilities that are within the grasp of the human mind enough to make one hope but far enough to make one desire.

Zaima is a struggling student, failed guitarist and a poet in need of better ideas. Extend your thoughts to her at zaima2004adrita@gmail.com