The future is a gaping black hole into which my present is disappearing and no one knows where it goes.
Some say its a blank canvas.
Waiting for me to paint my masterpiece.
If thats the case, show me to my easel.
Or more importantly, my inspiration.
It stretches ahead of me, the lonely desert road, on which anything can happen.
Despite the 360 panorama, you still don't see it coming.
Careering into you, leaving nothing but wreckage on your highway.
No tow truck in sight, you start to gather the pieces and remember when they all fit together.
Fix it or replace it, but you must choose.
You must keep going.
The loud tick tock resounds in your head.
Every heartbeat is another second passing!
Once I knew where I was going, once I had a travelling companion.
Now no direction, no company.
Sadly liberated I am.
Joyous at my new found freedom, forlorn at the loss of warmth and safety.
As time would have me do, I march on.
Try not to look back, to see it all shrinking behind me.
To know I'm leaving it all behind tears at my heart.
I don't want to forget, but I can't survive in a world built of memories.
I follow the painted white lines, pushing forward.
Excited at what may lay over the next crest in the road.
I find people and places to stop and pass the time with, but still I need to press on.
Marching forward, leaving more and more behind.
Putting enough distance between myself and the wreckage to allow myself to heal.
The new rhythm I have found is oddly comforting.
Trance like, I walk on.
Waiting for a signpost to show me my next destination.
