As the sun rises along Ramrod Key this Friday morning, I see the universe's contribution and mark upon my day, a projection of hope and light. Hope is a dynamic proposition that much like that of Robert Frost, offers many roads that diverge and it's up to me to make a choice, a good choice. The language I choose. The platform I raise. The character I disclose. Where will I do the most good? What is right for me? Where will my hope lead me? Can I get out of the box that I've created - and my surroundings expect - and fly?
I choose to fly. At this point in my life, flying is the only mark that makes sense. But keep in mind, flying is mighty hard. Tough. Exhausting. Ruthless. Rewarding. I will definitely leave the adventure to those with younger joints and figure out how to contribute in a manner fitting a pub in the middle of nowhere with no name. A mark that fits me.
After all, this life - this choice - this direction - is the only one I have which will lead me home.
Leave the best mark you can.