Your Inner Child is the Key: A Love Letter

I used to disappear into the woods, slipping between the trees like a secret the world had forgotten.

There was no plan, no destination—just the thrill of the unknown. I wandered, followed the whispers of the wind through branches, let my feet find their own rhythm on the earth. And one day, I found something.

A structure, massive and rusting, standing alone in the wilderness. It looked abandoned, like a place that had once mattered but no longer did. At first, I thought it might be a prison. Then I saw the pools, the turbines, the pipes stretching underground like veins. I didn’t know what it was. But I knew it was mine to discover.

So I climbed inside.

I traced my fingers over the metal, felt the quiet hum of something long forgotten. I imagined stories—who had been here, what these machines had done, whether I was the first person in years to touch this place and wonder.

There was no fear. No hesitation. Just the freedom to explore, to create, to exist without explanation.

Years later, I realized it had been an abandoned sewage plant. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that for one perfect moment, that place was a castle, a ship, a world within a world.

And I was free.

The Freedom of Imagination

On the wings of an eagle sat a child, soaring through the air

Diving as one does, with no care.

Eyes wide, heart wild, arms open anew,

Chasing untold tales, shaping them true.

No maps, no rules, no roads to stay between,

Only endless skies and lands unseen.

Not once did they ask where the wind might go,

For a child does not seek—they already know.

Sing without reason, leap without doubt,

Dream without walls, from the inside out.

Eyes wide, heart wild, fearless and free,

Weaving lost stories through sky and sea.

But time whispers softly, its lessons unkind,

Teaching the heart to leave wonder behind.

To walk in straight lines, to color inside,

To trade wings for worry, to shrink and to hide.

Yet the sky never vanished, the wind never died,

The eagle still waits where the dreamers reside.

If you listen—just listen—you’ll hear the call,

Of the child that you were, who still lives through it all.

Not lost. Not broken. Just waiting to be free,

To remind you that you were always meant to be…

Eyes wide, heart wild, reaching so high,

Chasing the stories that dance through the sky.