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
Unequally–
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
Thoughts of This 