Breathe life into life again, this looking ahead. I sense a resurrection, can see a man climbing out of temporary death toward an angel’s flight toward promise and hope, realization, divine. Ride the tide of this fresh momentum, exerting on the climb and allowing the downslope slide, in and out I can take rejection, don’t entertain dejection and never take failure too seriously. A secret performed for me. By the many before all of us who did it, exhibited. It is plain to see, during the color of my current stretch of hope, that I know what I’m doing. They will say yes this time and the readers fall in love with it and it will sell, our relationship gel, and I’ll be able to continue the climb of work, of manhood, of husband, of friend, of creative beating heart. Belief and faith may not be neglected, but nature speaks in funny waves sometimes, shutting down, knocking down, reminding you of how hard it is to get back up. Facing what? The sharp storm? The lightning strike on a small alpine boy? The crashing, clutching ocean wave? Your own invented obstacle? Cast aside, as the first divine, the initial inspiration, that first man who had no choice. Be that person without a choice, from hope to hope, and failure to more of the same, to failure as part of the game, making your nest, loving your friends, besting the rest. Solitude and determination, a fight for life, that graceful stand that is a living man’s allowance, alone barefoot on silken moss in the darkest possible wood.
