I like a tall confidence; a fit of force at nature's best. The emboldened gait of yesterday's fright, casting shadows as it glides. Own each step as you control the respective space. If pound of pavement be a precious rhythm, soon you'll see us close beside.
The irony of human suffering along the sliding scale: you are forced ever outward by centrifugal forces. The clarity and peace of the origin an irreducibly tiny part of your once effervescent nature. Breath now, the musty air of time everlasting. Taste the staleness of the fragile identity. And in awareness of yourselves, may you find the peace denied as you press ever outward.