I have been trying to write this post for two months.
In light of a lot that’s happened this week, I’ve realized the only thing any of us can do
is to keep pressing forward with the best intentions we can.
Do something over and over and eventually its going to stick, for better or worse.
Stuff’s going down, and sometimes its close to home.
The degrees of separation are small when you've been around and remember the people you meet along the way.
What happens when the world goes irregular, the push to move forward no longer perpendicular? What happens when the light goes out; who’s been stocking the furnace?
Because I’ve been learning to claw my way through the bushes to pick up the kindling to fuel this fire, and the light’s been leading me here.
My toes are on the ledge. My hand’s looking for the next piece of solid ground. Things are happening, sometimes they shatter, sometimes they don't, but the only thing I can figure to do next is not stop moving.