The Path To Berryhill
Today I walked a path to another, then another. Along them were nations and destinations I was more than welcome to waltz through, or pass through. The people would ask, “Who... Who are you? Are you new? Are there more of you? ...Will there be more?”
Is this fear, or uncanny excitement? Enlightenment… of more? It’s electric. A cranial carousel where we sell ourselves short. Shorter than the fuse that we use and lose. As I gaze at my momentary muse looking for more, I see it. I’m sure.
My feet move me along these paths, in a hurry to find nothing more than the next perplexing portion of pavement. My stomach turns, but my mind yearns... for more. I know that I’m supposed to push forward, or else what’s the purpose of being given this gift? I can move, so shouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t I? I have to.
Often it’s hostile, sometimes it’s gospel. A mind bending mixture of voices and choices. What’s more is the angelic and soothing, yet accurate and bruising barrage of beautiful beats. I feel them in the base of my heart, under my skin, and in my soul. Inhale. Release. Repeat. Path to feet. Shift, and repeat.
There will be. There will be many men who will walk where I’ve come, but never will they become anything… more. For we are who we are, always. We grow and show change, yes. We progress and hope for true progress on a purposeful path. That’s all we really strive for. I’ll soon cross a threshold where the path meets your door. Where there’s a whole lot… more.