If you can see good things on the horizon,
Then you must be viewing from the vantage point of sacred change,
Or
The precipice of peace and security
You’re already standing upon the grass that’s greenest, the verdant varietals of stability and familiarity.
Before bounding forward to seek new plateaus based on platitudes from the places where the line was drawn in the sand,
Stop to savor the quaking beauty beneath your feet.
The promises of a perennial pasture, the guaranteed harvest, the well worn backpack holds a familiar bounty.
The future is fertile with annuals of uncertainty, blossoming now in full sprays of dew soaked hope.
But before you summit the mountain, cross the line, rotate pastures, soar from the safety of vine climbing coops,
Savor the moment, the ground, the heavy cloud blanket of all that’s familiar
All that’s stable.
All that is here is hardened, is hopeful, is free.