The sand in the hourglass trickles away, sliding down... down... down... vanishing. Come back, I whisper. Come back.
I’ve lost my voice. It drifted away, tempted by the wind, into the vast and dark universe. I try to call for it, but out of my mouth falls only silence; sad, lonely silence. I can feel words inside me, trapped in shackles; they’re burning on my tongue, ready to burst from my lungs.
"If you're listening, if you're awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold ever more wonders." 
She had spent countless hours over her gurgling cauldron. Her eyebrows had long ago burned off, her hair was a tangle of sweaty locks and burns were shiny crimson splotches across her arms. She labored diligently long into every night, determined not to quit; she was so close to making her breakthrough discovery. Yet every night turned out the same: she’d fall asleep in the midst of cutting up dried roots or pig’s tongue, the cauldron’s bubbling a soothing lullaby. 
"Life is like a rainbow: you need both the sun and the rain to make its colors appear. The only way to see a rainbow is to look through the rain."
'What did he say?' 
The flower offered of itself
I swim in an Underwater Realm amongst fish and coral reefs, my tail glistening in the ocean light. My fingers brush against the seaweed and seashells buried deep in the sand, stars of the sea. Pearls are laced in my hair, glitter dots my skin. Magic vibrates through the water in hues of green and blue.
I was born to be a Mermaid.
Walls of bush and ivy tower over me, trapping me within. I wander around and around, taking first one path, then another. Twisting, turning, weaving; dead end after dead end. Searching, expecting it to be just around the next corner. But it's always the wrong way.
I gaze up in the clouds and witness magic working, creating wonder for those who wish to truly see.
Laying on my stomach in front of the Victorian dollhouse, arranging furniture and whispering stories. The dolls move from room to room, oblivious of my choking fingers around their fragile frames.
Mother bakes, Father reads, the children play, baby sleeps. My narration is weaving, my mind creating; imagining. For this precious moment, I'm a little girl again.
Holding a glittering flame in your hand...
A dazzle in the night sky...
Painting glowing pictures against an inky canvas...
One's own Sparkle of Happiness. 
Gowns of lace and silk, flowers weaved into auburn locks. Fine china and ribbons; little ladies playing dress up. A little cream, two scoops of sugar. Warm porcelain between your fingers, steam tickling your nose as it twirls in the air with soft, bubbly laughter. Gooey biscuits and strawberry tarts staining white pressed gloves, sugar sprinkled on dimpled rosy cheeks. 
"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined." 
The ship has been docked at harbor for far too long, anchored still. It gazes longingly into a cloud filled horizon and a foamy sea–– swabs of dandelion puffs; hues of ocean green and seaweed blue. It bobs in rhythm with the waves, patient for the wind to fill its sails once more. Lands are waiting to be discovered, journeys yearning to be taken.
There's a secret hiding somewhere, a buried whisper, that'll show me where the magic is.
"It is never too late to be what you might have been."
Faded looking glass, distorting the image staring back at me. Lies are all you whisper, reflecting nothing more than a stranger, hiding beauty from my seeking eyes.
Wisps of glitter, golden sunbeams, vibrant rainbows; dreams fill the air, the scent of Spring blossoms. Chase them through the corridors of your imagination, waltz with them as you sleep. Capture them and store them in the bright chambers of your heart.
Dreams are strange things: they'll slip through your fingers like foggy sand if unlived. Don't let them escape.
"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." 
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