Is it really simple?

More often than not our days don't happen as we imagined they would. We are elaborate in our expectations of movement and perfection that we wish to extract from the day and yet while we may gain all of what we wanted, it is rare it happens that way we imagine.

You get soaked in the pouring rain after days of wishing for a storm. You hear music and move in the rhythm of love and afternoon to a sound that is twenty years old. You lose your breath chasing yourself, coming to the knowledge that the pursuit of loneliness and solitary exertion are the foundations of your self.

Nothing goes the way it should but it goes the way you need. Some days it's easier to know this. Some days you see how small you are and how grand, how universal how eternal that is. Some day you keep promises, fingers into dirt, you dig and move the earth.