Three taps on a shoulder and closed eye embrace of freshening fealty. Never questioned that which is right by sight and path. We are seldom seen in captured moments thinking of all those beautiful spring blossoms in the sprawling fields below our quiet perch. We ate then tendered resignation for the view of yonder mountain, bidding it slumber in stone and sky. One Perfect road.

Leather pouch held up high, holding my rested chin. Small comforts this pipe of blackberry, raisin and sage reminding the desert it is not alone. The soft aroma mixed with dirt cooling peacefully from the raging Sun of yesterday’s battle. In brush and moor I lay passion to side hoping to make the soft ground my home for the hours to recover. Even the stars cannot hold my focus.

Moving swiftly after dousing fires of morning’s warmth we run for the boundary of hell and forgiveness. Hoping that somehow logic overcomes fate and order replaces chaos. Time to think and forget again, suppressing gravity’s mounting force to bring our hearts in the bridle of fear’s budget. We have not yet lost but absent intervention of source beyond our making, we are doomed.

Forced to learn quickly or falter we arrange the tools around our feet knowing that in coming moments there will be no time to assemble our rage and precision. Raining down upon the seconds we once ran through dress rehearsal we move silent, swift as if time and sound were partners. Leaning to the left a rock dislodges tumbling toward the edge of sound and water. We forget how to breathe.

What and whose destiny awaits? Will we be left in blindness of eye or mind only to resolve the puzzles so deeply rooted in our misunderstanding? What dreams shall pass the trance of nights spent waking, with inerrant tender? Smudged tattoos of bloat and ash beneath each eye we are reminded of our heart of darkness. Arising to see the shared shame of concluding too swiftly.