Quick reflections

Born the morning, cold in the afternoon with despair in the evening. When did it become so strange just to think? I remember the mornings of children, of my own infantile eyes seeking out the msyteries beyond me reach. The days ahead were nothing more than endless surprises, harboring the inviting corners of possibility. Time passed a bit quickly and the truths of the world was slowly force fed into the a once eager cavity of wonderment. Cynical thoughts poisoned me in the guise of wisdom and knowledge. The afternoons of my teenage years held nothing more than the cold constituitions of fruitless love, reflections of a budding scoundrel and the decimation of a romantic's ideals. The foundations built on the angst of those years evolved into these evenings before the dusk of my life. Maybe in the comforts of the approaching end I can rest into a new dream of what like could of been. I wish this time, this place, my existence is a dream, a short dream to rise above from. It's just a thought from a rippled water's reflection.