I believe.
I believe in the truth of that statement, its cold convictions, confidence, its strength.
And I believe the point of life is to live.
To go where the day takes you, where you life takes you where your spirit takes you.
I believe I was a fish in a past life, and my body still aches for the feeling of water.
I believe swimming is best done at night, and naked.
And I swim at night, feel the cold water surround me like love like hate like my everything.
And when I emerge my body shivers, begging to return to the water, mourning.
So I am drawn to rivers streams, aquariums, fountains, I stare endlessly fascinated, cannot help but slip my hand in;
the sound, the mercurial feel of water through my fingers.

I believe that rainbows do end, in farmfields, accessable only by dirtroads.
So I’ve driven the backroads, found the rainbow touching down.
Painting the field with its colors transparent, hazy; but vibrant.
I don’t believe people were meant to wear shoes.
I believe in long walks at night.
I believe in driving fast
rolling the windows down
and screaming with the wind.
I believe that the sun stole my heart as it rose, and dropped it in California as it set.
So the Pacific calls me and one early morning I will get into my car and drive,
follow the sun as it sets, follow it until I drive into the ocean.

I don’t believe anyone who says they will always be there.
Because I don’t believe in always.
You don’t get an always you don’t get a forever.
There is a forever, and there is an always, but you can’t have it.
You can’t touch it, you can’t even taste it.
But it will be there, and when you die, the promises you made will not linger.
They will slowly be ground into dust under the weight of time,
heavy like it is for some people, who feel they must make their Lasting Contribution
make
their mark
upon the world.

But when I am gone
Ground to dust under the weight of promises and time,
No one will remember that I spent entire summers swimming and driving my little Colt too fast, screaming out the windows.
No one will know if my eyes reflected the bluegreen of the Pacific when I finally stood on its shore
and let the water wash over my feet.
No one will remember the inventions or the awards or even the battles.
The weight of promises, time, and expectations will bear down until it is dust.
Dust on my car, racing down a dirt road.
Dust on the road, dust on the furniture, dust in the stores and dust in my body.
Dust and embers, love hate water green green grass summer sun bonfire in the night rainbow Trout and I believe that

this moment is my life.

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