Is it so easy to believe that these signs beckon so identically? When transient scripts rarely strike so deeply by their resemblance, do you hate me or am I just hard to please? There's little ground to stand on atop these bridges I've defiled, if running out of options could only feel more out of style. But below there's passing water that just seems far more worth my while than to declare this tongue a forest fire.

So we'll keep these doors open! May our shallow lungs runneth over with the breeze that's comin' in. Feel the push and pull or aquatic metaphors: Just as likely vast and drowning as it is to be what's founded each step forth.

(So we fail forth) 'cause a fear of disrepair can grow overblown and trite, and surely less sustainable than some ailment more defined. So give me tribulations, so give me trials, and errors, and errors, and errors, causes, and whys.

And we'll keep these doors open for the freedom of an exit or a longing for intervention. Feel the back and forth of my reckoning with tension. I promise to treat absence as no option, because you don't.

So I'll send greetings from Mt Molehill and spend the season recounting time poorly spent. Why learn to read what's left unspoken when we could leave 'em writing best-sellers at our expense?

(Who are you? How are you? Why are you? What's your goal for the day?)

So we'll leave these doors behind because separation has stayed well past its welcome. Shed the dreaded weight of self-stifling momentum, we've got firmer bridges to come along the way.