Traveling

Down the winding road we go.

Dark and damp, every step a fight

against the black clouds within

Stirred by the wind, voices turn to thunder.

And yet we battle, anxiously for firm ground.

And we dream, silently to ourselves

that the winds stop and the clouds part.

that the winding road no longer winds.

Every step brims with purpose and resolve.

And the voices disappear behind your own.

Only then do our travels begin in earnest.