I feel that my life is calling me to a place I have forever dreamt about. A place that feels like home, and yet that seems depressingly out of reach.
Today, and yesterday, I feel like the road that leads to great things is pulling me by the hand, great things that I always thought were mine and were me. Things without which I would be somebody else. Today I can hear the calling, but my eyes see little of a blur.
Must I follow a voice that might be none other but the screams of my own anguish and deception.. Must I turn away and take the road of a crisp horizon.. Must I trail my instincts and run after my dreams..
My life so far was chosen for me. The failures I might endure shall not be my own. If now I choose to take the ship that hugs the storm, the shores I might dock on will be ones of enchantment and wonder.
Yet if the storm wrecks my ship, I will be drowning alone. And I will be dying a million deaths, like the prophet who lived long enough to see none of his prophecies fulfilled.
My fingers are cramping. I feel strangely consumed. Consumed by my choice, when my choice is but one that was carved in the shape of my skull, the color of my eyes, in my father, my land, in each planet and each sun.
Funny. Consumed by my choice when my choice will always be me, but will never be really mine. Ever.
My fingers are cramping again. Maybe I should sleep. Maybe the night will whisper something in my ear. Maybe tomorrow I will know that beyond tomorrow is where I am truly destined to be.