Paradoxical People

How do you do it?
How do you write?

Remember when you were young, when the days were as old as your imaginary dragons and the nights as young as your dreams, that you were not yourself.

When you were that butterfly and you just knew what tasting a flower was like and pollen felt like velvet in between your toes.

When you were an acrobat and the trees were your rope and broken bones were a pride and not a weakness.

Do you remember when you swung and the chains were the only things holding you back and you were actually a bird drunken on the roundness of the sky?

Can you recall a memory from your youth that isn’t under a frosted glass film? Can you remember two minutes ago and it’s just a cassette rolling dust between its gears?

Remember, and you write.

Remember, and foster your mind like you were young.

Write, and you are a paradox of a person.