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Flecked

I want it to stop.
Moments, not journeys are the focus.
It’s been my home even before my memories.
I’ve never truly left, but now it is time.
The universe seems to place beacons,
and it is our job to find them.
Looking away for a split second,
can throw the focus elsewhere,
Which makes you miss.

Behind us there is a wake.
Each ripple or wave meant something.
Finding meaning, searching purpose,
we can be lost inside the fluid motion.
Everything seems to line up now,
but looking back is always clear.
Living each path and crossing from
one to the next, was not straight.
It was not easy like you see now.

If you look at a painting, each dot
seems small in comparison.
As they come together it makes sense,
but only of another small piece.
Only when you can step aside,
Only when you can see the canvas,
does the world become a scene,
Something you can easily digest.
The difficulty had no instructions.

It was half a lifetime ago now,
but still seems like a few days.
Something keeps pushing me away.
Someone keeps pulling me closer.
Confusion is no longer my friend here,
but a drunken guide into yet another path.
Even with a flair towards the dramatic,
there is no clarity here, other than
the path which lies ahead.

Where am I going with it all?
I was hoping writing could explain.
It made me realize that this path is not clear.
This path, is heading into the unknown.
Adventure is one side and pain another,
but a fresh start may clean old wounds.
Doors I find, never seem to stay closed.
There is always a crack you can claw into.
Some fleck of hope or sorrow we can cling to.

Moving forward and hoping for the best…

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