The skein of existence is worryingly fragile, the slightest deviation of direction will alter conclusions wholesale, if not sever them entirely. At every moment in time we stand upon a precipice, a ledge from which the fall would most certainly delay, if not eliminate entirely ever again moving upwards upon that particular pathway. In hindsight, that truth is starkly indisputable, but at the moment of choice we are blinded by all manner of foolishness’s marring clarity.
My journey to this point in time hangs dangling by the merest whisper of spiders silk, having been consistently being buffeted back and forth by a myriad of conflicting possibilities. This final destination, supposedly the result of a well-balanced considered decisions, has more to do with pure chance than any preconceived notion.
Each and every forward step necessarily demands a release of connections to situations, persons, events, considerations, cherished most dearly. The only possible option being to roll the dice and with hand on heart take another trepidus step.