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I dream of a world where safety is not earned.
Where belonging isn’t conditional.
Where worth is not measured by the weight of your labor, but by the light in your being.
I long for a community where the basics—
food, shelter, stillness, dignity—
are not rewards for exhaustion,
but offerings of love, because you are here.
I dream of a circle of humans who do not fear imperfection.
Who sit with mess, and madness, and miracle.
Where your contribution is your presence, not your performance.
Where your story, however fragmented, is still sacred.
I want to live in a community that does no harm
to the ones who fall behind,
to the ones who break down,
to the ones who need more.
Let there be music in the fields,
hands joined in dance under a quiet sky,
laughter rising from kitchens where no one eats alone.
Let the competition be kind,
a celebration of each other’s bloom,
not a game of survival.
Let there be no “less than,” no “better than,”
just a thousand ways to shine.
I want to live close to the earth.
To the water.
To people who remember how to listen—
to each other, to the trees, to children, to silence.
To people who take turns carrying the weight
when one of us cannot stand.
I want to live in a world where no one is too much,
and no one is not enough.
Where elders are held as wisdom,
and children as prophecy.
Where we meet one another in the middle,
not with fixing, but with firelight and faith.
I want a world where freedom doesn’t look like escape,
but like deep-rooted presence.
Where we do not hustle to be seen,
because we are already known.
A world where love is not a currency,
but the climate.
A world where imperfection is not just allowed—
it is celebrated.
I do not know how such a world can exist.
I only know my soul aches for it.
~
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