6.16.2009

Point made, point taken.

The blanket of clouds was louder than the blue sky. The sun was still asleep. The dawn pavement was busy reflecting life passing above, the iron bridge trembling carrying furious traffic over small life below.

Weeds waved, train yards smell of metal and rust, wet newspaper stuck to the yellow diamond traffic sign.

On the way back into daily slog, it's all simple but not too simple. Life runs a course that is anything but of course; Caribbean dreams reluctantly morph back into their gray concrete dull gritty alter egos. The sublime ghosts of casual thought hide in dim corners and then in plain bright view, waiting with the patience and resolve of time itself.

Labeling an impulsive endeavor as improper can be proper, theoretically. Only if undue motivation has provided the catalyst. Sequestering the drive to break the mold and create an alternate tangent can be overwhelmingly daunting. Electing to follow your nose to that end will provide unknown results. Some exist only to accomplish the adrenaline infusion for the push. Others are comfortable in solitude.

Point made, point taken.

An epilogue to close the symbiotic soliloquy.