You have held the shape of this place between cupped hands, shaping it into the ball of possibility that you have thrown off into the future. Now, here you stand longing to get back to that place.
The maps of your longing can no longer lead you down the path, past the entangling thorns, to the secret entrance that leads to your place. No longer do you have the key that will unlock that door. You have left it alone too long. A route that was once etched on your heart, carved into your soul, but no longer can you recall it.
Even our dreams get tired with misuse and we feel the hollowness their departure leaves behind.