The Decision.  First, you decide what is real.  What do we have?  First, you need to know where we stand.  Nothing, nowhere.  The less the words, the more the err, the more the interpreted.  We're blind to it all anyway.  Breath is precious.  How do you know what is right?  Just a train of endless self-justification, both outward and inward, towards some uninterpretable watcher.  It takes faith to discern.

I hope we will live to the day when we can fly away.  To a place much like home after walking through a rainy day.  Where nothing has really changed, but homeliness is all the heart really craves.

It's so troubling that all we ever mostly see is the surface.  One can ask and be answered a million things yet no one ever wants to or needs to tell what's really inside.  A rare commonality.  What is real?  A kind and happy couple that goes home to nothing but arguments and discontent.  A jealous outsider wishing she was still his, jealous of something that there's nothing to be jealous of.  His source of strength, a lost soul wondering what lies beyond, looking skyward bound, too blinded by clouds and puffy white to hear the beautiful medley that is the honey rain pouring on their faces.

Let's all race, and keep racing.  We're going to get home someday.  Moments encased in time, frozen in never-ending memory.  Someone please give me directions, or at least take my hand.  I promise I'll do the same for you.