Between the arbitrary lines

I set for no one but myself

And which no one sets for me,

Is the imagined landscape of

what I might achieve–

What I might get done today,

Tomorrow, and in a year

When I’m not so confounded with fear.

But outside those self-imposed lines

Is the veracity of time and how it takes and gives


What it hides right before our eyes–

And the truth of what it will always be:

A haphazard assortment

Of a million small moments

That come together to forge

What we humans call destiny.

–Written by Sandy Heights

Image by anncapictures from Pixabay

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