The ideal was just that. Perfect love. No fear. The Beatles. Something only achievable in the United States of America or perhaps some island nation we only ever dream of vacationing in.
Little big dreams because you could. Little big dreams because your horizon was unlimited. The levels unregulated. The distances not kept.
Who in history ever thought of this? Who ever dreamed of vistas so wide?
When did freedom beget freedom? What love is this?
We are not the sum of our parts. We are the parts of our sum. Each a shiny, metal light lit up to an unearthly glow.
A flickering light, an undulating flame. A candle’s glow in total darkness.
A red plain. A white mountain. A thousand kids with a billion stars reflected in their eyes.
No limits, no boundaries. No laws of physics to deter their imaginations.
This is the ideal. These are the achievements that will power us to the nebulae and beyond.
Tyson said we are all star dust. Elements of the expanding universe.
Little big dreams, the parts of our sum.