9:18 to be continued

trying to find inspiration
walking along the path
what is my motivation
for being who i am
time's become a distant memory
scattered on the forest floor
skipping tomorrow
forgetting the world outside
will a description of our morning walk
lead me back?

Trying to find the beginning of the story, phrases emerge to create a place where I can slip into different thoughts. The end of the day is a strange time for me to write though. I try to grasp an idea and the day's events overflow my creativity. It is 9:18 according to the little clock in the right hand corner, which means I sit to write the world a note. I am here releasing myself from the day as it comes to a close. My family sleeps as words shuffle around my head.

Climbing the hill as wind and snow press their lips to my face awakens me.
The world is full of darkness and yet I know that as I reach the top
the sun will have lighted parts of the eastern sky.
Darkness will fall away to reveal a remarkable world.
Reaching the river bend, my eyes rise to thank our ancestors
for the beautiful world they have entrusted in us.

I know the little boy sleeping on my chest deserves
to grow up with this beauty surrounding him.
We walk our circle path returning.
Stomping the snow from my boots, I reach for the door.
We are home.