The bruises on my shoulders no longer hurt. I am friends with the burdens now. After realizing, I had to accept that these weights can’t sink me. And no, I can’t walk on water; I am only a man. I count on my hands, feet, the land, and time to save me. That has and will always be my way of life.
I am no stranger to the familiar misfortunes put in place for our kind to bear. I am acquainted with troubles and trials. I have danced as a puppet of the strings of time, suffering for relief, but never saw mercy. I have had the world turn its back against me, severally, disregarding my presence and my thirst for life. I have lived in the ruins of this labyrinth called life. But that has never stopped me from hoping and moving. At best, I rest.
But rest is borrowed until death; there is no time to. The clock counts down. The only way to compete with its pace is to live. And for most of us, if you have to work with only what you have been given, living is a job. Sometimes it drains you to just wake up and go about your day. But we have to work, with the intention of actually living.
Life is for those who choose to reach, for the hand that seeks gets. Blindly, I tend not to ignore my desire to live a full life. And that means racing against the wind with all its unfathomable strengths. I, for one, would clown at my own chances. The pressure to see and grasp it all empties my strengths sometimes. So for that, I am sorry to myself for being a mortal with limits.
To soar, you have to stretch. Before the sun woke today, I saw the sky blue, and my arms stretched. Heaven felt close. I felt lifted, and above all, most of my burdensome worries rested. It felt easy to breathe. I lived the dream!

© Ommie