Working, trying, making way on this road I must walk, knowing that to depart will leave me wandering or stranded. My feet are not always certain as I slip, slide and sometimes backtrack to stay upon the skinny path. All the time the wide road beckons with smiles, evidence and promise of sensory gratification. What allure do these whispers offer?

The fray. It excites, holding the bold promises of transformation. When rivers collide or sand and stone are assaulted by massive seas, erosion tells the future and preserves the past. Our past, mired in watery grave, escaped to tell tales of mile-less journeys across the ledger of time. At the center of change we may embrace, remain aloof or be diminished/destroyed.

What then the future provides that smashes the resolve to remain buried deep in gravel or clay? Fear must be challenged, ignored or defeated to reach plateau or promise beyond resolve of personal power or gravity. The boats of joy and meet the life, death or assimilation in victory as the victims are forgotten. To which heart to you give credence? To which word do you respect and employ? Where are you going in contempt of where you’ve been?

In hand, in tandem to walk fires and furnace of salvation. We lean into the winds of pitch and turn finding friction necessary to maintaining yaw. Setting suns and sails we smile running into the unknown destinations of tomorrow. Absolute freedom in not knowing but assured that it will be better than any life imagined.