Sometimes I long to see through the eyes of my younger self - when magic lived in every corner and wonder painted the ordinary with gold.
When a dandelion was a wish-keeper, not a weed. When puddles were oceans of possibility, not obstacles to avoid. When cardboard boxes became castles, and blanket forts held all the secrets of the universe.
I miss the time when colors didn't need to stay within lines, when grass stains were medals of adventure, not laundry concerns. When every stranger held the potential of friendship, and trust hadn't yet learned to wear armor.
Back then, the moon followed us home like a faithful companion, tree branches whispered ancient stories, and stuffed animals held wisdom deeper than any sage. A hug could heal any wound, and tomorrow was always painted in hope's brightest colors.
In those days, we saw beauty in its purest form - before the world taught us to judge, before time taught us to hurry, before life taught us to fear.
Now, when the world feels too heavy, I close my eyes and remember: that child still lives within me, teaching me to dance in rain puddles and find constellations in spilled sugar. Reminding me that sometimes the greatest wisdom lies in simply believing in magic again.
~ Etheric Echoes
~ Art by Anna Ermolaeva
Source: Facebook - Spirit of a Hippie
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