My screams do not resonate.

Their disruptions are blocked by the mountains before me.

I am on foot wearing brand new shoes.

My depression will not break me.

I have been broken on the floor desperate for agility and stability, for which both have alluded me.

My screams of disapproval bounce off the landscape and echo beyond.

If I was born to burn then why am I not lit?

I am at present dissolute to the reality of my purposes.

If the flame is life and I am ash, can I not recover by igniting the path?

Will the mountains subside if I rise?

If I begin with brand new shoes, can I climb the mountain to enjoy the view?

My faith is real, as am I.

The view is magnificent even with closed eyes.

I can see the future beyond the mountains.

My life will recover, I just have to let it happen.

Tristan Rimbaud

Copyright © 2017 New Life Old Soul™: A Tristan Rimbaud Company

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