Breadcrumbs
My grandmother used to make the most delicious grilled cheese. That's what we called it. What she actually did, was bake honey wheat bread with sliced pieces from a cheese wheel in the oven.
Finishing your delight at the kitchen table, because you weren't allowed to take it into any other room, the empty plate goes in the sink. After a few times of having to go back to the table and clean it off without the plate to brush the crumbs onto, you learn to do it all in one trip.
Perhaps a conversation or a train of thought was interrupted, I have to rewind my photographic memory. Just what was I associating in the previous images? Those associations are my dust. They take me back to the path that I was previously on.
I'm trying to clear up my loss of direction. Like those crumbs in the bed that you didn't mean to drop. Curiosity so powerful and involuntary, folks couldn't help but to interrupt.
Now you might call them landmarks if you were an explorer. This mental image that you're trying to paint. A map that exists in your imagination. So the question is, what legends are in the key of your map?
Maybe you're tiredly walking in the landscape of a picturesque sunset, alongside this roar of the ocean. A sound that no sleep machine can truly capture. Cutting the tracks by half, anyone can tell where they grew weary, and rode a shoulder back home.
The empty bottles clinging in trash bags hours later. Perhaps everyone is still asleep. Memories that will probably remain locked forever. And yet it was dubbed a celebration.
Some lay on the blacktop, others waved in distress, and others fired into the night sky. Hope and good visibility may bring good samaritans our way. Sometimes the perpetrator is not the one cleaning up the mess. Maybe a guardian carries us back home.
Looking far and wide for signs of salvation. To recognize spiritual miracles and seek righteousness. Navigating North, diverted from temptation and just beyond the outstretched arms of evil.
A supporting cast which stands behind. If we are lost, will they find us? Always imagining they'll bail us out. Never to salvage what's left of the wreck we become.
Traditions become stardust. Those crooked steps to climb a learning tree. Rising up as lost boys and returning with maturity. Risking everything should we descend. Tempting fate to go backwards?
Rarely do I go back and read things that I have written. Yet, when I do they take me back to those inspirational flashes. Reminding me of what was new and could be again. Some things should never be swept away.
Though our minds play tricks on us, perhaps even degenerate, others will follow our footsteps. They can see our first impressions. Truly knowing the shoes they have to fill.
Debris that tracks our journey into evolution. Until the forces of nature reverse our mistakes to take us away like dust in the wind.
