The surface lays still, unencumbered by the passing storm.The light quickly fading, outside and in.The ashes of hope are wafting away.No dreams be left to lose oneself in.
What is this line? Where does it take me?Into the fog-laden hills ahead.The road descends into a blur.Is there a valley, a hill or a cliff approaching?Or just plains of nothingness?Mediocrity haunts me more than cliffs and valleys.I cannot see without taking another step.But what is that step leading to?A burning heart.One part anxious expectation …
The horizon. Home of the things we fear, the hopes we long for, and the dreams we can never attain.
Caught by the clutches of the shadows. Bathing in the rays of the light. The daily tension of this journey we call life.
Rising above the chaos and clutter to breathe in the open space.Be it dusk or dawn, a new beginning or a temporary pause.Breathe.