Gideon Writes

Watching out the window, at no inspiring sight, dragging his foot — every step a fight. Holding his head — pounding since six,  coughing his bread, puking his mix — no done, no dark, no curtains, no stark: the past, comes alive, better now, then the first time around. Remembering what was is sweeter than when the memory was being made. Tons of goodies to bring up, relive, revive. I am not dead, the past keeps me alive!

The Only source for anything we wish, we desire, we want, we aspire — is the future, which also harbors every single danger, threat, or misfortune we dread, or are clueless about.  The future washes fast into our present, for an instant, and then to our past, where it accumulates folded, packed, for evermore. Yet, there is more future to be had, more risk more opportunity to heed. The future is looming ahead even if we don’t see it, and don’t mind. A settling thought, come to think about it.