Peacefully, it drifts through the breeze.

It is a speck of dust in comparison to the vibrant, mosaic sky; a minuscule thing that, every day, goes unbeknownst to the people. It’s a small, trivial thing no one cares enough to notice, but for me, it holds the world.

It holds a world where my hope to fulfill dreams come true: dreams of random car rides to our somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, or staying up to untold hours of the night chatting about everything and nothing all at once. There, dreams of heart-racing adventure and serene moments of rest will be fulfilled. There, dreams will no longer be dreams but rather the memories that took their place.

It is a place where every factitious plan we’ve ever made becomes tangible—it becomes our reality.

It holds a world that contains knowledge beyond what books could ever write. Whether it be about the most obscure topic I could ever imagine or topics that it seems that everyone should know, every word it has spoken has left me in awe. It’s a world that teaches me about the infinite number of points and matters to learn and care about, no matter how small it may truly be.

It holds a world with creativity spewing over the brim. It is a world where a million stories go untold, all of them simply waiting for the perfect moment to paint the minds of whoever hears them. It tells stories that will forever make me smile. It tells stories I know I could listen to for eternity and then some.

It holds a world that cares for everything around it unlike anything else. The way in which it condoles anything that crosses its path, a selflessly benevolent affection, is admirable in every possible way. The way in which it cares about everything around it, no matter how drastically different that object may be from it demonstrates a heart purer than any form of gold could get.

Even so, that speck of dust in that vibrant, mosaic sky floats off with the wind to some far-off land I can’t seem to reach, and with it, my little, loving world is carried along with it.

And so, patiently, I wait for the wind to spin that speck back around to me.

I wait for it to bring back the world where my hope to fulfill dreams can come true, where I learn things I never would have known I needed, where a million stories are waiting to be told, where it unconditionally cares for everything it knows.

I wait for it to bring back that world because I hope to reciprocate all the warm, loving things that that world has done for me. I hope to make just as great of an impact on that world as it has made on me—one that words could never truly explain. 

I wait for it to bring back that speck because it holds a world where everything I could ever need is with me.

I wait, and I watch the sky.