Hear the music Before the song is over

SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids
On a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain
Slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day
On the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done
Do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores
Running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child,
We'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste,
Not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch,
Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time
To call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over

Me the heroine

I have recently been referred to as the 'heroine'. Accused to be playing one despite lacking all assets one is required to possess. The chiding comes not from my parents who, I personally believe, in the least, have earned the right to chide me on such matters by I (and other) PRs bestowed upon them by destiny. It comes from my friends. Friendship is a vague concept. It's the smartest thing human beings have done to justify their need for humanness around them. We are social animals. We should be, rightly, perhaps. [Listen to Society, Movie: Into the Wild]. Well I am trying to be the heroine yet again. So that brings me back to myself being fondly and often referred to as 'heroine'. Harmless, rather affectionate.
So when I was fretting, my eyes managing to squeeze out huge drops of condensed emotion after a really long time, narrating my tale of misfortune to my friends, I felt guilty. Guilty as charged. Guilty as charged of being a 'heroine'. I have always heard people marvel at the interesting lives of other people; watch movies and read travelogues in awe. But when it comes to someone in close proximity attempting even something as safe as an exorbitantly-paid job with all possible security in a, well, 'godforsaken' (May God be praised) place under a contract which even promises the payment of extortion money for the first two abductions and in no way implies bonded slavery, they mock. Everybody does. I do. We mock everything that promises the realization of our wildest dreams. The truly wild, uninhibited imagination, can be dangerous to our practical, smart living. We live in denial initially and then in acceptance. The acceptance of life as it is, as it is supposed 'to be' makes us mock. We mock to convince ourselves and others around us that being pilots or astronauts, or simply aimless wanderers is too heroic, too quixotic perhaps to be tried 'at home'. We fear the realization that perhaps our wildest dreams were not all that unattainable. Perhaps along with the right to control the reins of our life we also possess the right to let the horses of our imagination loose and lead us, if not too far, then at least, to the acceptance of the 'not to be'. We all grow up reading "The road less traveled" but we mature when we accept it to be a poem(thoughts too impractical and therefore recollected only in tranquility) rather than believe in it as a philosophy. Are we ever going to swim until we reach the bounds of 'Seaheaven' and see beyond the sham we currently refer to as life? Is this so difficult to understand?