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")