A piece of me desires to hit the road. I’ve been jogging in place for what seems like 23 years. My pace has been a series of sprinting, dead stops, and fast walks towards what seems like a steady job filled with resentment.
Is there something that I am missing from my life? It seems that the only time I find genuine thrill is when I am in movement towards some grand adventure…
My life is a camp fire. It yearns to be freed from stones set in place by those around me.
My fire takes oaks, cedars, and pines. All have deep roots taking hold within the soil.
My spark? Well that’s to be determined.
I feel superficially contained by sediment and silt. Wind blows through my hair…. I spit ashes towards the sky in an effort to gain attention.
I am misinterpreted. Do not fear what you can not comprehend.