The Journey

The Journey

I want you to know I was never lost.

I’ve only been searching.

I am footloose.

I am nomadic,

Always on the hunt for adventure worth unearthing.


My fear is second nature.

But courage is instinct.

Always brace the new day,

Lest that be it.



photo credit


I’m not scared, really


I am not scared, really.


Sleep is nothing because you are nothing as you sleep. You are neither alive nor dead. You are neither here nor there. Your mind exists in a realm you can only access in complete secrecy. Your body exists here, among us, and waits. Sleep is nothing more than a word to encompass much of what we cannot understand; but we understand little and all words, in the end, are precisely that. They are open-ended.


Fear does pursue me in sleep. I would say I do not tremble, but I do. I see the sharp teeth and extended claws. I see the beasts with their bloody maws. I cry for help and only misfortune befalls me. To home, only agony calls me. In day I dream of a dreamless sleep, but my dreams are open-ended and fear writes itself in.


As a person, I am not scared easily. I do not fear what I do not know. Pain frightens me in the basest sense; monsters horrify me in the instinctual sense. Maybe I can never measure my courage, but I am no coward. If I were a coward, I would know.


Entrails strewn and family gutted. A man with a soft smile stands on the far side of the room. Devils in my dreams. Demons in my head. I lay alone in my bed, but that too is open-ended.


I am not scared, really—and that is open-ended.