All That You Leave, All That You Find

There comes a morning when you wake up secure in the knowledge, a knowledge deep in the marrow of your bones, that time is running out. As your eyes open and adjust to the stars, you can take the terror of that knowledge and stuff it away, shove it into the shadows where you keep all of the other truths too painful to bear, the ones you don't want to face, or you can let the terror set fire to your psyche and run for the nearest relief, the pain killers of distractions or self-medication, or you can let the knowledge sink in and take shape to form the basis for your actions. Those actions are the ones that lead you into unknown territory, the places you know you need to go before the curtain comes down, if you are strong enough to embrace the hard option. Your destination may be the roof of the world or the art left undone from neglect, but you must rise and leave the comfort of habit behind. The lights won't work for you now because you travel in the dark. That is the way, my friend, but you will find the path and get used to the joy of not knowing, of being again a beginner, of taking the hard road of what is while it lasts. Peace will walk with you if let her and learn how to see her. Light grows behind the ridge in front of you; frost on the road sparkles like diamonds. Time to gather up your staff and pack your bed and rise, rise.