The Captain

Throughout the years he had worn different hats, worked with the best, and come up the ranks until he was in a position of command. However, after many years at sea, the captain asked himself whether he was going in the right direction. His original pursuit wasn't obtaining power, wealth, or even status. His only concern was finding the two ingredients that brewed so many dreams: love and happiness. Two ingredients that he himself could hardly fathom yet he would wander in his mind and reminisce. 
He remembered his long days in the kitchens perfumed by the smell of fresh garlic, and bread baking in the ovens set ablaze with large oak logs. What power the flames had to break down such hard wood, yet the flames were gentle enough to provide a plentiful supply of succulent bread. 
In those days, he was only a boy, but he had a firm grasp about life in his own way. Not once had he ever won any battles in love nor in war, and when he fell back he found glory in defeat and a wealth of knowledge from a broken sword. Even the most dangerous of adversaries were not a threat; any threat was more importantly a learning experience. In years to come there was no promise he would win, but he could promise that if he lost he would lose on his feet but never on his knees. 

Bottle of Dreams

Believing dreams came true, I wrote my dreams on a weathered piece of paper and put it in a bottle. I then looked to the sky, whispered a prayer, corked the bottle, and launched it into the ocean. I saw the bottle drift away further and further until it completely vanished. 
Even if I wanted to I couldn't drift away with the ease the bottle did. I was bound to too many things that occupied my time and mind. I felt like a prisoner with shackles at my feet and arms. This life, it dealt me a bad hand with countless limitations that robbed me of my freedom. I was a strong man, yet I was still a helpless boy. Even if I ran from town to town and attempted to evade life's pursuit of me; I would fail. A man regardless of what he does is eventually faced by his own mortality.  
This did not mean I should quit though. This only meant that I would need to work faster and work harder. I, too, would journey like the bottle of dreams in this ocean of life. Like the bottle, I would be guided but it was up to me to reach my destination. 
On that day, inevitably, I would be an old man with gray hair and a cane. A frustrated death would finally find me after countless times I made a laughing getaway, and rode off on a white horse. In the end though, I'd be lying on the seashore too tired to get up; fortunately, I would be a good message. A message of hope. A message of dreams. Just like the bottle of dreams.

Picture from NPR.org ("Casting Hopes and Dreams to Sea In a Bottle")

With the Tassel to the Right Side...

As I witnessed the high school graduation ceremony, I continued to lose focus and envision circus acts. I saw a whole lot of tigers jumping through hoops and ringmasters guiding white horses. In the hands of the audience were also show booklets detailing the order of upcoming events. Nothing was left a surprise yet the multitudes of people remained amused.  
Who would have thought, that nine years ago the same show was played with all different characters?