Left foot, right.
I think I'm driven to walk by desperation. There's an unseen force haunting my every footfall, riding my calves, and racing up and down my tendons. Every step does not merely precede the next, but forces a building momentum that continually crescendos to an unsustainable peak.
I would run if I could. On my best of days, I can manage a short sprint - pacing myself against the inevitable consequences of exertion, I push myself to an exhilarating high before my limbs declare defeat and bring my head down from the sky.
Some days, I throw all caution to the wind. I conquer a mountain peak, chosen purely by whimsy, and chase myself to the top. There, I savor the wild and heady rush coursing through the air, infecting my body and soul. Then, I throw myself headlong down the path, racing with abandon to an unknown goal. There is a certain high, an adrenaline we seek, derived from taking your life in your hands and hurtling down the mountainside. Racing through pine groves, leaping from boulder to boulder, and gaining stride on even paths, I pick up speed. The world is shut out, all cares are gone. The stakes are unbearably high, but satisfyingly single-minded: left foot, right. Don't miss or you die.
When I was young, my father told me stories from his father. The old, wise sage taught us both about the steps we take in life, and what will follow. Yet, no one could prepare me for the steps I did not, and cannot take.
I walk from desperation, I think, each step mirroring the finite pulses of my heart - a ticking time-bomb counting the beats until the footfalls stop.
~Daniel Thompson
How absolutely true and breaktaking. Well put my friend, well put.
I would run if I could. On my best of days, I can manage a short sprint - pacing myself against the inevitable consequences of exertion, I push myself to an exhilarating high before my limbs declare defeat and bring my head down from the sky.
Some days, I throw all caution to the wind. I conquer a mountain peak, chosen purely by whimsy, and chase myself to the top. There, I savor the wild and heady rush coursing through the air, infecting my body and soul. Then, I throw myself headlong down the path, racing with abandon to an unknown goal. There is a certain high, an adrenaline we seek, derived from taking your life in your hands and hurtling down the mountainside. Racing through pine groves, leaping from boulder to boulder, and gaining stride on even paths, I pick up speed. The world is shut out, all cares are gone. The stakes are unbearably high, but satisfyingly single-minded: left foot, right. Don't miss or you die.
When I was young, my father told me stories from his father. The old, wise sage taught us both about the steps we take in life, and what will follow. Yet, no one could prepare me for the steps I did not, and cannot take.
I walk from desperation, I think, each step mirroring the finite pulses of my heart - a ticking time-bomb counting the beats until the footfalls stop.
~Daniel Thompson
How absolutely true and breaktaking. Well put my friend, well put.
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