Dreams change.

I had always been told dreams change. I never believed them. How can a dream change? A dream is something your heart wants more than anything.  A dream is something your muscles work day and night for, and never tire out. A dream is something your sleep nourishes. A dream is something your age weaves. A dream.. is your body of unadulterated innocence.

For me, that dream was a person.
His eyes were drawn with the lashes of my love. His lips, although stained with traces of tobacco smiled to the thoughts of my child like mind. His arched brows expressed wonder to my rebellious ideas of the world. His face... the perfect canvas for the little games of light and darkness.

For me, that dream was a friendship.
The ties of which were strengthened by the both of us. It was a single road that led to two homes, his and mine. There was never space for another traveller on that road. We kept our journey to each other, we saw the world together, and made memories that were ours. And nobody else's.

For me, that dream was a faith.
A faith that was slowly understood by my fragile mind with subtle years that never realized the quick pace of me growing up. A faith that refused to crash, come what may. A faith, that he was a vital part of.

For me, that dream was a song.
A song that made me smile to the silent notes of assurance, even if I was a thousand miles away. A song that left home with the promise of coming back to me. A song, that he sung for me.

* **

But all those dreams walked away. And the core of all those dreams changed. Not because I didn't want it anymore, but because I finally realized that the world rotated every second, so did we, and none of us stood constant to those promises that were made.

That person, changed.

That friendship, was no longer about just the two of us. 

That faith, however was saved with grace.

But that song.... it no longer had the same sweet voice who sung for me. It never came back home, to me.

And yes, dreams do change. Because after a point of time, no matter how hard you chase something and strive to make it yours, it'll be yours only if it wishes to. You can't force its existence in your life, and you can only hope for it to come back if fate wills it. And what I hope for you, is to carry it as a beautiful memoir of love, that makes you smile every time the music of that dream blows in the wind that plays around with the locks of your faith. A faith, that you mustn't let go.

-Nil.