Movement

Its rushing at me so fast I can barely see, blowing my mind back.
But it’s not the wind. I’m moving, flying really, so fast through space but hardly crawling through time.
Sometimes my eyes withstand a brutal assault that pushes me into new awareness.
An awareness of myself that previously couldn't be reached
Forces inside fight the movement and fight the stagnancy of stillness.
Growing pains threaten to end all progress with emergent finality
Budding hope of prosperity, while adding to the declination of peace, springs out insisting on continuance, continuance of danger, continuance of superstition, continuance of a trek into utterly known lands of possibly devastating dejection and possibly edifying truth
It's never safe. Fine. It's never easy. Fine. There is always an option. Fine.