October 16, 2010

In the pre-dawn, I run past the men sleeping on benches and lighten my footsteps, smooth the edges of my breath–they need their sleep, and I need to feel alone here in the dark, music corralling my spiraling mind, each step forward a meditation on what I’m capable of doing, what I can return from, what I can fix through hard work and what I can’t, that the only direction now is forward, forward, forward, not looking back, not stopping, not waking what should remain in repose, not losing sight of where I’ll be when the sun finally rises.

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