The cornucopia of my dreams

When I was 7, I did not know what a cornucopia was. But even then, I dreamed about what I wanted inside the cornucopia. The abundance of chocolate, or Hello Kitty merchandise, toys…

7 years later, when I knew what a cornucopia symbolized, the tastes had changed to look at it as an overflowing container of health, being fit and a lot of non-material things between the infinite amount of material possessions, ranging from gadgets to makeup to stationary.

Two years from that date, what do the cornucopia of my dreams overflow of?

Of vacuum. The strong scent of not being. Maya. Confusion. Questions. Books. Preparing to graduate out of school. Books. To-do lists. Noise, Empty Spaces. Confined Spaces. Deaths. Funerals.

But that’s not a cornucopia of dreams. That is reality. And right now, our cornucopias are nothing but our world. Broken, spent and reeking of awful things while being in perfect balance with sugar, spice and everything nice.

Does it push you into a sudden frenzy of existentialism? Or does it break your heart that the same pathetic end that met the popular wife or a popular man might happen to your near and dear ones?

We have too many problems that all the cornucopias that have been made to keep them off fail to do so. We live on superstition; we feed off fear in our minds. So much that we do not grow out of it, we grow into it.

So in the cornucopia of my dreams, there is peace. Different kinds of peace- inner peace, world peace, and peace of all kinds. And we do not wage wars to make it.

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