The Passport

An inanimate object, it knows not the passage of time.

Or it’s consequences.

I, however do.

I, know it is there, waiting.

With my bucket, full of dreams and wishes.

Time is becoming the enemy, each day passed is one less to explore.

My patience wears thin.

We cannot delay much longer.

Though sometimes it feels as if the deck is stacked against us, we will not be denied.

So many places, so many latitudes, so few opportunities.

What place should I pull first from my bucket, or should I just reach in, stir, and grab whatever falls into my hand?

Taking a page from a certain boy and his stuffed tiger, I think it’s past time to go exploring.