As you may glean from these words, they have been added at this conclusion of the article below. This is a note you will surely recognize, not only in its essential being but in its obvious arrival.
It's laziness is undeniable, and its integrity questionable, but its effect on you, the reader, and the strength of the piece's emotional, etc. resonance that remains to be seen:
I have not edited the writing below.
You could say my choice would be to help capture the power you can muster, even when that shadow of sleep just on your back seeks to take hold; to show you signs of hope that you, too, have powers both stagnant and dormant to shatter Life's tribulatory barriers.
I have sipped my coffee; have eaten peanut butter toast in my travels towards it; have begun plotting my words on the path towards that. We write to tell stories of grandeur and velvety prose, and often shy away from those longing to be told through shaky and tentative tongue. Even as I "bullsh--" my way down this final stretch of 100 words, I do so with the faith that fortune and love will reign on all who read this; all who find necessity and palatable fruit here.
You are the seeds that carry the torch. The flames of purpose light the way, while the torch itself may wither and die. Those flames are eternal. The words are not.
And, perhaps, that is okay.
For words, after all, are like the North Star: they shine with brilliance upon the dark canvas of our minds, there to guide us home once more. Home: where we laugh and love, through even our most deplorably egregious missteps...
(Roll Camera: Take Two!)
Home: where we are never alone.
I set the ringtone in motion "the night before"; on the closer end of midnight. I have awakened now--somewhere around halfway to the suggested goal of eight--on the strength of that song, and the mantra of love that is reinforced by it.
Those words are the grappling hooks with which I traverse the space between; they reinforce the direction and their lines hold fast. I have taken my first step in combating the tides, and perhaps even turning them.
They say life is a river. Sometimes, it really is like battling the currents. When the mind maintains boarding for fear, fear is not one to be cast out. It can take insurmountable odds, or unknown artifacts of leverage, to make even the changes that logically are superior to your own habits.
Still, it comes down to the laying of stones in either direction. Do you celebrate the path of ease that you have built--consciously or not--to the realm of peaceful inaction/rest/sleep, or celebrate the path you have just begin to build, with those flighty, erratically-placed victories?
Victories such as that ringtone that drives your mind to the pit of your soul, where you see the beauty of their youth and presence in your life, any of which could take its irrefutable toll sooner rather than later.
The padding of time that you have gifted to yourself to write a letter from the heart, that may or may not look as this potential imposter now.
That sign in your coffee cup as you pour in the grinds and stir it to integrity; that snapshot shape of a spider that you have recently been under the impression once more that, be fear ever so humbled, it is, accurate or not, a sign of creativity.
The strength and will to arrive on time to this place, which could very well be the change that the World almost missed.
Sometimes when you miss the boat, you are not the only one.
About the author
Hello all! I am an aspiring vocalist, filmmaker + writer. I hope you gain something personal + inspiring from my work here. You are also welcome to subscribe to my YouTube Channel: Ad-Libbing With The Zman.