When the morning Sun bakes my eyes awake I do not know what this day will bring. Still, I cherish every moment of this unpromised, uncompromised life. I rise day after day like a ritual since not living life is also a form of death. The paralysis of analysis can cripple or empower. What you do when you choose to know the ledge is crucial. I choose to live unbound in the water rather than feast on mental slavery in the burning wastes of life. I long to sleep on a pillow of winds and not the thorny brush of memories. I will do what I must to get by with devotions. Not of gods or false masters, just my free will. Guiding me straight and real as ever. And continue to hope someone hears my whispered pleas of “what if, this time.” I will not play Apollo’s lyre of woe or feel the chariot lash on upon my back. As I toil on this coil braced for fire, I push the bloody pen along the page. Trying to reason with the deaf, blind, yet wise gho...
The further adventures of a well-lived life explored.