(no subject)
night folded in upon itself, creating a small vacuum in which I might exist, briefly, suspending time to allow more room for thought. yet the night seemed also to stretch on and on, a quiet yet firm reminder of what I have yet to achieve...a quiet yet insistent friend berating me for things left unsaid, unfinished, and unexplored. tumbling one over the other, words managed to fall in line and form neat, straight rows of thoughts, standing shining and proud for inspection.
and this is what I've learned.
this is the end of pavement. I stand at that exciting and fearful place where the road has run out and all that is left is a great wilderness, untouched, waiting to welcome a footpath. I stand where one must hack away at the undergrowth and forge one's own trail. this is the beginning of the road I've always been terrified to walk: the one that is distinctly mine. because my own road, while eye-opening, is lonely.
I turned the words over, examining the backs and sides, rearranging them and then letting them fall into their original order.
my breath hung heavily in the air, white and steamy and deliciously my own.
and this is what I've learned.
this is the end of pavement. I stand at that exciting and fearful place where the road has run out and all that is left is a great wilderness, untouched, waiting to welcome a footpath. I stand where one must hack away at the undergrowth and forge one's own trail. this is the beginning of the road I've always been terrified to walk: the one that is distinctly mine. because my own road, while eye-opening, is lonely.
I turned the words over, examining the backs and sides, rearranging them and then letting them fall into their original order.
my breath hung heavily in the air, white and steamy and deliciously my own.