The Ethereal March

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The query is simple.

Too simple.

Too broken-down, too constricting, too…

Blunt.

We tend to limit the (supposedly)

Single-minded mental capacities of a child

By posing a question so audaciously mediocre.

My initial response:

A picture of ten different careers, sharing but

A common face.

(Maybe dissociative identities could solve my dilemma.)

I remember my gut sinking into my trembling feet

When their icy laughter pierced my naïve ears.

Twelve years later, I’ve learned to stand.

My daydreams are still “childish” fantasies…

Not of castles, nor of princes,

Not of riches, nor unsurpassed beauty.

I dream of being a pioneer,

A foundation.

I dream of being an unparalleled source

Of debate.

I dream of being the giant

Upon whose shoulders

Curiosity’s muses will find their perch.

I’m walking, not wandering.

Learn the difference.