If I Get a Little Lost
If I get a little lost don’t worry about me. Just remind me why I do all of this. Shake my spirit slightly and direct my vision to the western setting sky. If I lose myself a little out there, don’t cry for me. The tears aren’t worth the joy that’s being lived. Not very many have been able to hold me down, and I know that few in the future will be able to either. Chances are, If I get lost out there, I planned it anyways. Look to the mountains above, take in their massive beauty. See in detail the rugged crags of their headwalls, the rocky outcroppings from which only the angels and the birds know the view. I mean to be there. It is where I belong. It is where I feel whole. My mind wanders there often. Every morning that I wake, my ambition swells with another day to go out there. One would be hard-pressed to find something that can hold me back for too long. The determination of a man unfettered, the wild stubbornness of a grizzled mountain goat. The ferocity of a pit-vipe