The start.
A series of days stretches before me,
limitless in their potential,
empty of plans and of need to be anywhere
except for where I want.
Blank canvases to be made over in the images I choose,
empty pages waiting for me to write the story,
heaven.
But one day shall follow the next
and that seemingly infinite potential will shut down as the days march
and potential becomes reality
becomes memory
and all too quickly I will be at
the end.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
The start.
A series of days stretches before me,
limitless in their potential,
empty of plans and of need to be anywhere
except for where I want.
Blank canvases to be made over in the images I choose,
empty pages waiting for me to write the story,
heaven.
But one day shall follow the next
and that seemingly infinite potential will shut down as the days march
and potential becomes reality
becomes memory
and all too quickly I will be at
the end.
