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Life itself can be a distraction. Along the course of living many occurrences can steal away the focus from creativity. Reality bombards the mind with its incessant ordinance and many things have no choice but to be relegated to a back burner. The struggle can seem all too futile but resolve gives its best like a dying ember out-gassing its energy. Smoke, heat, and light render themselves to darkness in a fit of exertion. Hope fades as time progresses. The longer the idea is on a back burner the more likely it is to be forgotten.

Years might pass before an idea is pulled back to a front burner. Sometimes the lack of attention is a good thing, and sometimes it is not. Dreams become littered with the regolith of unfinished thoughts. Debris wafts about amidst the sparse clouds of luck. Pinpoints of concentration stab at particles in attempts to thread something together that can become useful. If by chance or fortitude something coalesces, then the darkness of failure is torn away and the light of creativity condenses once more. Few things give the soul flight like the final birth pangs of a good idea.

Every dream ever attempted can never really die. They all stay there in the spaces between synapses. Chemical messengers reserve themselves in hibernation, waiting for the right combinations of other messengers to trigger them back to life. Even as life ends, the dreams are still there waiting. I believe they propagate one final time in a flood that becomes the wind and the waves that carry our souls away. Think of any loved ones no longer alive and simply spare an errant thought about what their dreams might have been. If you knew them well enough you might find a gentle breeze blowing there in the back of your mind. I do, and often.