What is a dream other than a moment we hope to hold?

I find myself obsessing as the winds shift from hot, to warm, and back cold.

Leaves fall, I rise and rise, ignoring seasons.

A list that was once extensive has been reduced to one reason.

A fire burning for one desire.

A vehicle built for the distance has the ability to finish on one tire.

Threads get weak, and the rubber gets so thin.

However I’ve noticed pressure tends to come from within.

A finish isn’t satisfying without the terrain you’ve made It through.

I may love my dream, but my dear process, It was all for you.