When I was younger, I dreamed wildly.
Running through the fields of my family farm thinking I ruled the world.
Picking up a stick, that in my mind was the sharpest of blades that would strike down any foe before me.
The steady stream was a rushing river and on the other side, a new land that I must traverse.
Helms Deep was always in the distance.
However, now when I see a stick, I don’t also see the enemies I must strike down.
I simply see a piece of wood.
A piece of wood that will ignite the richest of flame as I toss it into my fire place.
Though I may not now have the imagination I did when I was younger,
I still see potential in what the simplest of twigs may have to offer.