Lightbulb

Then it came upon me, like a drenching Nebraska rainstorm; if there is no one here, then I'll have to go. But where? Maybe it's a matter of when?

I can hold my breath for a long time, and let my patience wear as thin as hot wax paper. I can hold my own, but not a candle to the old and weary. Hanging by a thread, these things in life are mere strands of twine wanting nothing more than to bunch up to make a noose and slip around my head every day until I walk in places too deep for my own good. Either way, I can keep ahead of indecisiveness. This town is deserted. It's too small for the one of me. It makes the anticipation build until curiosity rears it's little head through the clouds onto the giant's castle. I'm not climbing up to look ahead, or scout the land. I won't go on a wild goose chase, even if she lays golden eggs. No, I'm just getting my footing back, I feel. There can't possibly be any time left for me to follow rabbit trails. Unlike Mr. Frost, I am not the least bit sorry I cannot travel both. Deserted, in a desert. Not even a trace of bones or marks of a struggle. 

Play dead, play nice, don't play at all, I keep thinking that if I carry on the same, everything else won't be the same. I keep finding that all I want is a change of pace and I've convinced myself living otherwise will lead me there. Gotta get up, move on, find my way around again. 

Back to reality though -

I'm holding out for more years. Long life and good days. Plant a church, be in a home, have better occupations in the hours outside of work.  It's gotta be right, it's gotta be a no brainer. I guess I'll know and I won't have to guess.