Eddie Pinero

In the quiet moments when no one's watching.

When the world is still and the spark returns.

That flicker.

That impossible thing you're told to put away.

And in those moments you'll wonder...

Is it foolish to reach?

To stretch for something that no one else sees?

To climb a ladder that completely disappears into clouds?

To follow a path with no name, no trail, and no map?

But what they never say is that the map is made by the one who walks.

The trail is born of footsteps, not instruction.

And the moon, well, maybe that moon was never the prize.

Rather, it's the decision, the declaration, the raising of the hand to the sky and saying, I don't know what waits around the corner, but I will go anyway.

And as for them, they won't understand that.

They won't see the stars you passed through, or the galaxies you shaped with every setback.

They won't feel the cold of the void you dared to enter, or the warmth of that first light after darkness.

To them, you missed.

You aimed high, and you missed.

But what they misunderstand is that you became something in the process.

Falling through the stars, it still means you touched them.