the future is a blank canvas as i draw rough drafts at every moment,
as i map my past and present.
if i zoom out i see what’s really there; a blur of feeling and subjective perspective.
in the fog, i see what i want to see.
i breathe the fresh air, feeling the wind rush between my fingers.
if you try to catch the wind or the rain
you will be empty handed, wet and cold wondering what you can grasp.
in life it is best to grasp at two things;
your own freezing cold hand and those of your nearest companion.
perhaps he who sits across from you at the dinner table
or who sleeps beside you beneath the sheets.
it could also be your loveliest friend,
each serving a purpose to keep you grounded
as you navigate the world
as you see it, as you see fit.
it never ends;
in one moment i hold the reins for myself
but in the next i’m the co-pilot
advising someone on their next landing.
as the plane halts to a stop it dawns on you;
together you did it, diving head first
into the depths of this world—
in that moment— to alter the course of time.
the map readjusts its pixelated landscape
to your new predicament.
you clutch the parchment
as you walk, blindly clinging onto the shift in the pixels;
hoping for the nearest treasure—
hoping you, your companion, and your map
will find a good hiding spot to lay low
and watch as the canvas finishes itself.
the plane lands, flown by an expert
and a very confidently helpful co-pilot.