No Title.

For a long while I wasn't lost. I had my path, trodden with the deep footprints of my possiblity...my potential if you will. See, it turned right somewhere between my purpose and conviction, settling nicely above my roots. The wind formed my future fortified by the heat of drive and unyielding cultivation. I dug my soul into the flesh of my land and watched as tiny secrets sprouted in the most unusual of surfaces. Weeds. I laid bricks as I walked each step to ensure I could find my way back through history. I walked forward backwards to avoid the mistake of misdirection and placed each stone into perfect corners suitable to the voice within my mind. Confucius use repetition in meditation and my zen was an infrastructure of safety and knowing...I wasn't one for surprises. True to the nature of my existence, in my futile attempts at perfection, I faltered upon a stagnant lisp of ground and tumbled backwards, which was really forward, and fell deep into a ravine I hadn't noticed running perpendicular to my avenue. I held tightly onto the broken veins of my initial workings and bruised against the fluxing currents of missed opportunity to just let go. Complacent in the swirling brine I hung childishly onto the pieces I was once told were important. Pretty soon my ego dulled from years of rubbing against the sand and salty revelation had healed the ruptured spirit I had subdued with false ambition. The past is a memory that can never be walked again despite the evenness of the road I had laid. Plump and pruned from the nectar of awakening I pulled myself up and out of the mirage I had self-perpetuated. By now the path had been bleached by an unforgiving sun and the landscape was a tarp of navajo red. I followed the ravine until the trees swallowed its head and lost myself in the theory of uncertainty. But every now and then I take out a piece of that brick which had chipped away with time and I remember where I had been to remember just where I'm going.