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Wishes

There is a thing about wishes that I’ve always loved. It was the idea that somewhere out there, there is a collection of everyone’s wishes. I see it as a something like a pillow processing plant or maybe they're like the feathers we've wished on and float down from the star that someone else wished on. A feather-like wish will float amongst an immense circle of the candles that we all wished upon. Below that lies the stones that we through and the pennies that we doinked. The water they bring with them creates a stream that swims to a pool where the wishes are soaked into the cycle of life and time and returned as vapors that are absorbed by these feather-like wishes. And now taken on the wishes from the stars, and soaked up all the candlelight, too. The feather-like wishes begin to settle like dust. The higher you are the more likely that fortune will pick you. Wishes fall based on the weight of the wish as it falls. The wishes that bought the easy path sink to the bottom like brimstone, a wish that was so sincerely made that the Universe prepared itself only to be forgotten, the wish that was abandoned just before it could be completed. The sediment is laid. The wishes that were made by children and forgotten fall softly atop. The wishes that were made purely but too vaguely to make it to the Universe mixes like sand with wishes that were stolen from someone. Each layer a wish, a generation, an era, and a moment; all eventually building to one striation of time on the cliff faces of Lake Champlain. Time that I wonder if I deserve to be a part of or of my soul’s potential to be a part of others'.

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