I try to wake up, to feel alive. I attempt to bring my body and soul together, in agreement, for the day ahead. It cracks. It groans. It sounds, and feels, like an old steam engine. It is more contraption than a biological entity. A worn out and tired old steampunk.
Many years ago it had energy, beliefs and causes. It stood proud against conformity. It rattled at the oppressor. It bellowed toward the indifferent and traditional. It sought a different way.
Oil the joints, Stoke the fire
Slowly the contraption stirs into a more acceptable state of affairs. Levers lift, valves restrict or open and energy begins to flow. Pumps push vital needs and gifts around sealed systems. Movement becomes possible. I have potential.
The signal is green, the track is clear
I lumber forth. Bit by bit I increase my metabolism and speed. As far as I can see, the way ahead is easy to navigate. There are no points to manage and no obstructions bar my way. Yet, I keep my eyes open for the signs. I look for the signals that warn of danger, that tell me to slow or wait. When did I begin to listen and look for safety advice from others? When did I begin to follow the tracks without question?
The smoke belches toward the sky
I sigh as I move on. It’s a journey that takes energy. Some days it takes a whole lot more. It takes a little bit of the very being that I am. Every day a little less of me attempts to travel. A little less of my soul, my essence, my reason, joins in. And rightly so, what’s the point when the track is carefully laid out in front?
Exhale, and breath in again
jump the tracks
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