Dear sweet innocent child of mine. I am writing you this letter from heaven. Life is a Marathon. That you only get to enter once. A contest of endurance. Ran by both the weak and the strong. One night while in a blissful sleep. I dreamed I took a walk with Death. Down the road of life we did walk. Welcome to the city limit of poverty.
A city without a soul. Located in a land without a conscious. It's motto reads. There are so any reason to hate America. I cannot count them all. You can hate America because. There is no King or Queen to bow down too. I have a dream too. Yes you were right Dr. King there is no doubt in this kingdom. Old Man sitting under a tree.
Old man just sitting there. Old man just looking at me. Old man what is that you see Mirror, mirror hanging on the wall. Am I big, or am I small? Speak to me for once, and tell what you see. I fill like I am a complete work. In the middle of time and space. There exist a stain glass window of reality. Man looks through a large window. Only to see a small world. How can this be? From sea to shining sea. Across the fields of amber waves of grain. We as a people is still not free. The greatest adventure starts with the smallest dream.
Dreams are the birth place of all adventures big and small. Dreams are the vehicle that transport us through time and space. I have reserved a very special place in my heart. Just for you.
There is a bench for you to sit and rest. It is shaded by the tree of love. Even in the darkness of a dream. The mind can still see. Once a old man was asked by a child. Why should an education matter to me?
