Tonight I rest, I rest, I rest my weary bones.

I’ve beaten myself to a pulp, a glorious pulp, the flame of youth burns bright, the perfect nexus point between the ambitions of adulthood and the vitality of post-adolescent primacy — 

But tonight, tonight, tonight do I rest my weary bones. 

When was the last time I simply let myself rest? Ah, something awoke in me, and I’ve found such great joy in work, in toil, satiating something deep inside of me, answering a lifelong question, grabbing that hooked scythe at the end of the interrogative, pointing it downward, and answering —

I’ve answered the question that is each day — each day, as the sun rises, we are asked: who will you be? what will you create? know that the photons I invest in thee today will always have echoes into your future — know that you can rewrite your past through rising like I do in the now. If actions speak louder than words, then I’ve answered that question by screaming my voice hoarse.

I’ve answered that question each day with ferocity channeled outward and inward. I am both clay and the hands that shape. The flames of the past seemed to have set me into ceramic, but the hammer of strife shattered me into a million pieces. Fascinatingly, they fell as puzzle pieces. They fell as building blocks. I saw opportunity. I saw the chance to rebuild and remake myself. I knew that each day was a puzzle piece set, I knew that each day was a nail driven into wood. I knew that my house would be built, the puzzle complete, through a long series of these steps. I saw the staircase extend into infinity, those limitless horizons, those upper echelons of the sky. Saturn, the lord of time, taught me that every day was a step taken either up or down, that the highest version of myself was both waiting for me at the top and created in my ascent.

And I began. I began. I climbed and I climbed. I’ve been climbing, I’ll continue to climb. 

But oh, how I forgot this key:

there are times to simply stop the climb and enjoy the view. why summit a mountain’s peak without taking the time to drink in the heights to which you’ve climbed? we all must step to the edge and take the majesty in, to extend our arms, to scream with glee, to whoop and to holler like fools. 

tonight, tonight, tonight — tonight do I rest my weary bones.