One day, I finally found one day.  One day free of alarm clocks, things to do, people to see. One day of rest that my body so needs.

Thes black lines on a page that I so diligently have written are starting to move away from me.  I keep a schedule, writing in it all I have to do and all I plan to do, but with each passing day it becomes harder and harder to write into it.

Why?

Because of the incessantness of it.  My hands ache when I hold that pen to the paper because it means that there is no end. I need time, space in my book to rejuvenate, to allow these moments of rest come. Day after day, like raindrops in a forest I feel this showering of duties up me.  I know this rain will end eventually but I want at the moment is an old tree to shelter me so I have a place to lay my head.

I know I ask for this, I overbook myself to the point where I can’t breathe.  Where my mind goes blank, my body gets tired, and I get sick. It’s something I have to do to keep moving forward in this grand festival of life.  What I do today is all for tomorrow, this place where I finally achieve what I want. I’m told I am almost there, a place where I can grab it, just make it through these moments and it will all be over soon.

I will rest today so when tomorrow comes I can be strong and free. I will rest today so when the future comes I will be ready to fight for it with all of me.