April 2007 (from the thirty day writing project)

 Destination (rough draft)

I want to believe that all things are possible.

I want to believe that
there is some sort of design to this
crazy world, that all around us,
possibilities are dancing
around every moment, every breath.

I want to believe that every dream I've ever had
is just one of a
billion possible futures.

That my every desire is
accessible if only I make the right
choices at the right instants,
and even if I don't, there will always be a
back road that will get me there.

It'll just take a little longer, that's all.

I want to believe.

But I fear that each of us is
limited by a finite
number of chances.

That bad decisions are like
black marks on our
permanent records.

That sooner or later we all use up
our quota of possibility; that
happiness might be
forever elusive because of all those
times we tried too hard to hold onto
something we never knew
we never wanted.

If there is always going to be another
opportunity, then I can stay silent until the
proper moment arrives.
I can be patient.

If I knew that I had the right map, I could
stake out alternate approaches,
confident that I will get there
eventually.

But if this web of possibilities is nothing more than a
pretty illusion, can I afford to spend one more
day lying to myself, pretending that this too
will fade away?

Can I afford to waste another chance?
Another breath?

I want to believe that there is
somewhere that every one of us belongs.

I want to believe that there will always be
another road I can travel
that will lead me back home to you.