If the Accident Will

Knee-deep in the distant cousin to the life I once lived; a surreal sort of mossy dream that painted itself in blues and greys across my mind as the summer began to slowly unwind. I am continually walking into my dorm room with a sort of awe and empty goodness. This is home? I drop my bag and pull out the night's reading material and start to mill through it while Matt is dealing with the latest in copyright infringement (poor guy) and only then does it completely hit me that home here is nowhere. Sidewalks are warm and friendly and the sun kisses everybody the same in the sweet breathing breezes of mid-afternoon. Time is slow through the shade, but speeding through a breaking canopy and bursting back into the sky. We are young in body, young in flesh, young at heart, but maturing. This will be the change where no one person remains the same. There is no opting out anymore; choosing the most convenient option that will never prove against the grain. Looking back has aged itself out of staying an option, even though these words may as well have been written by a pillar of salt. Grain by grain, picking myself apart well enough to dissect where I'm headed, I can see two things: the acme and the bottom. The acme and the bottom.

I will forever choose to fall skyward.