I stare at the ceiling watching the ceiling fan turn; its blades moving so fast that I can’t distinguish them one from the other. All I can do is feel the cool breeze it produces as the air kisses my warm skin.
My life is like those blades. Sometimes I can make out all the intricate details and other times it is a complete blur. The time speeds by aging me in the process.
The dream is the string that I yank upon; it determines the speed of the fan. I can use the dream to accomplish greatness or nothing at all by the simplest of acts. in one quick move I can destroy or up lift; I can conquer fears or be besieged by them.
Each day I must arise and figure out if I’m going to give it a yank and watch the fan spin or if I’m just going to lay there.
So, my question to you: are you pulling the chain?