What if Martin Luther King Jr. Had a Dream, came off of the Mountaintop
And went home?
What if he caved to the pressure of self doubt
And journaled his thoughts instead in some quiet quaint safe place, smiled deeply, closed the front cover, put down his pen, and tucked his journal neatly in his bottom left drawer under some papers?
What if Martin Luther King Jr. stayed away from crowds because of the noise and lounged long evenings on his chair in front of the television, his dream kicking up air somewhere in the back of his mind, but settling there as he drifted off to sleep?
What if he knew he was right, but was just too tired to try fighting Goliath?
The horizon of passion kindled in his blood when he said yes to every dream. His vision grew clearer, the passion brighter, his following stronger.
*Unbury your journal. Wipe the sleep from your eyes and worry from your quivering chin. Dream again. I dare you.