Thoughts from a Paradoxical Dreamer

Note: A loon is a crazy person.   “Flick! Fffff,” The soft encouraging sound to move on, to keep going, to shine brightly. The crazy loon carefully coaxed the soft and soothing hope toward his little tea candle🕯. The hope bit back a bit at his calloused hand, eating away bit by bit of the wooden stick that held it close as the loon brought his hope to the candle.🕯 “One day.” He told himself glancing at the lovely little silver disk. “One day.” The loon uncovered the dark, pitch-black curtain and looked out into his dark, pitch-black world,🗺 holding tightly to his wooden stick with the red reactor at the tip and carefully placing the silver disk in front of the window. As he did every night, the loon threw open his window and placed the open sign in front of his door, put things away, and got ready for a party. But, just as expected, no one came. No one ever came and the candle would dwindle into nothing but a pile of wax. A burnt-out wick in an equally burnt out world and ...