​

What is this dream we chase?

The creation of visions writ large?

The lure of distant lands?

The call of service?

 

Every day is 8 more hours.

Sitting and staring,

Typing and tracking,

Clicking and contemplating,

Working and not working.

 

And some year, on some day,

in a singular moment,

It will all come to an end.

And I, will dissolve back into the nothing.

​

Could it be that the dream is one of letting go,

The tranquility of acceptance?

Is the dream's promise the embrace of what is,

rather than the chase of what might be?

​

In quiet defiance I choose to cast my own light

back upon the dreams of time,

stepping into the embrace of the present,

one ski track at a time.

​

Peace,
Joel G

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joel@graniteporch.com