Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
There comes a time in a man's life when he realizes that he doesn't have to outrun yesterday anymore. He doesn't have to prove himself to the world, win every argument, or carry every burden that was never meant for his shoulders. Sometimes all he needs is an old pair of boots covered in road dust, a cup of coffee warming his hands, and enough quiet to hear his own thoughts.
I have spent more years walking dusty roads than I care to count. Some of those roads led to places worth remembering. Others led nowhere at all. Looking back, I don't think the road was ever the important part. It was what happened to my heart while I was traveling that made all the difference.
Life has a strange way of kicking dust onto your boots. Every disappointment leaves another layer. Every goodbye adds another step. Every prayer that seems to go unanswered makes the trail feel just a little longer. Some people look at those dusty boots and see failure. I look at them now and see proof that I kept walking.
There were days when I honestly wanted to quit. The weight of depression sat on my shoulders like an old saddle that had been there far too long. My body grew weaker with time, and there were mornings when just getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain. I wondered if life would ever become simple again.
But somewhere along those lonely trails, God kept showing up. Not with loud voices or great miracles that everyone could see. He came in the quiet moments. A sunrise that painted the sky with colors only He could imagine. A kind word from a stranger who had no idea how badly I needed to hear it. A grandchild's laugh. A friend's phone call. A cup of coffee on the porch before the world woke up.
Those little moments became my sermons. I learned that peace doesn't always arrive after the storm is over. Sometimes it sits beside you while the storm is still raging. It reminds you to breathe. It reminds you that tomorrow is still waiting. It reminds you that God has not forgotten where you are, even when you feel forgotten by everyone else. The dust never completely disappeared from my boots. Truth be told, I hope it never does. That dust reminds me of every mile I survived. It reminds me of the valleys I walked through and the hills I somehow climbed. It reminds me that I didn't give up when giving up would have been the easiest thing to do.
These days I don't chase much anymore. I don't need expensive things or fancy places. Give me an old wooden porch, a rocking chair that squeaks a little, fresh coffee in my favorite mug, and enough daylight to watch the birds do what birds have always done. That's wealth to me. I've discovered that peace isn't something you buy. It isn't something someone else can hand to you. Peace grows slowly inside your soul while you're learning to trust God with the things you can't fix.
It grows every time you forgive someone who never apologized. It grows every time you smile while carrying pain nobody else can see. It grows every time you thank God for what you still have instead of mourning what you've lost. The older I get, the more I believe that heaven must look a little like an old country road after the rain. Quiet. Gentle. Honest. Maybe there'll even be a porch somewhere with two rocking chairs waiting. One for me and one for Jesus. I'd like that. Until then, I'll keep walking these dusty roads. My boots may never be clean again, but that's alright. The dust tells my story.And if God is willing, I'll keep adding another chapter every chance I get.
Because somewhere between the broken roads, the unanswered questions, the tears, the laughter, and all the miles in between, I found something I had been searching for my entire life. Not perfection. Not riches. Not even easy days. I found peace. And if I have dust on my boots because of the journey it took to find it, then I'll wear that dust with pride. After all... Sometimes the greatest blessing a man can carry isn't in his hands. It's the peace that finally found a home in his soul.
I have spent more years walking dusty roads than I care to count. Some of those roads led to places worth remembering. Others led nowhere at all. Looking back, I don't think the road was ever the important part. It was what happened to my heart while I was traveling that made all the difference.
Life has a strange way of kicking dust onto your boots. Every disappointment leaves another layer. Every goodbye adds another step. Every prayer that seems to go unanswered makes the trail feel just a little longer. Some people look at those dusty boots and see failure. I look at them now and see proof that I kept walking.
There were days when I honestly wanted to quit. The weight of depression sat on my shoulders like an old saddle that had been there far too long. My body grew weaker with time, and there were mornings when just getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain. I wondered if life would ever become simple again.
But somewhere along those lonely trails, God kept showing up. Not with loud voices or great miracles that everyone could see. He came in the quiet moments. A sunrise that painted the sky with colors only He could imagine. A kind word from a stranger who had no idea how badly I needed to hear it. A grandchild's laugh. A friend's phone call. A cup of coffee on the porch before the world woke up.
Those little moments became my sermons. I learned that peace doesn't always arrive after the storm is over. Sometimes it sits beside you while the storm is still raging. It reminds you to breathe. It reminds you that tomorrow is still waiting. It reminds you that God has not forgotten where you are, even when you feel forgotten by everyone else. The dust never completely disappeared from my boots. Truth be told, I hope it never does. That dust reminds me of every mile I survived. It reminds me of the valleys I walked through and the hills I somehow climbed. It reminds me that I didn't give up when giving up would have been the easiest thing to do.
These days I don't chase much anymore. I don't need expensive things or fancy places. Give me an old wooden porch, a rocking chair that squeaks a little, fresh coffee in my favorite mug, and enough daylight to watch the birds do what birds have always done. That's wealth to me. I've discovered that peace isn't something you buy. It isn't something someone else can hand to you. Peace grows slowly inside your soul while you're learning to trust God with the things you can't fix.
It grows every time you forgive someone who never apologized. It grows every time you smile while carrying pain nobody else can see. It grows every time you thank God for what you still have instead of mourning what you've lost. The older I get, the more I believe that heaven must look a little like an old country road after the rain. Quiet. Gentle. Honest. Maybe there'll even be a porch somewhere with two rocking chairs waiting. One for me and one for Jesus. I'd like that. Until then, I'll keep walking these dusty roads. My boots may never be clean again, but that's alright. The dust tells my story.And if God is willing, I'll keep adding another chapter every chance I get.
Because somewhere between the broken roads, the unanswered questions, the tears, the laughter, and all the miles in between, I found something I had been searching for my entire life. Not perfection. Not riches. Not even easy days. I found peace. And if I have dust on my boots because of the journey it took to find it, then I'll wear that dust with pride. After all... Sometimes the greatest blessing a man can carry isn't in his hands. It's the peace that finally found a home in his soul.
