From Malta with love

I refuse to ever dim my lights down for you sweetheart, now if only I could find my way. I mean if the ability to move mountains is unattainable then why does my conscience crave such a thing? The echoes in my mind beg to allude to something greater although I fear that in the end I will disappoint myself. The seduction of a dream is what captivates, yet the struggle to with old the aspiration teases my naive maze of thoughts. My hands are well on their way to grasping this future investment, yet something is holding me back. This civil war within me does not want to cease, as if I enjoy taunting myself. If I could predict this persuit's forecast like any other weather man, I could only imagine it riddled with disappointment, tears and blood shed, with a chance of heart break. Perhaps that is what has me tied down here. To this city. To these faces. To my routine. With each fleeting season, my fear that it will all end manifests. These words seem to escape me, without a hint of sanity. If I am so sure of where I am supposed to end up, why am I stopping myself from reaching my destination ? Perhaps I am my own worst enemy.