This I Believe
Spiraling. Spiraling downwards through this endless sea of white. Down, down, ever lower. A lone star who’s brightness is devoured by the endless light around. Others try to push me up, saying “Seek heights, seek the very top.” But even if I did go for the summit if this bland mountain, I’ll never reach it. Stop pushing me; I’ll go at my own. Pace, to my own destination.
This I believe.
Everyone’s heading up, a rush-hour bottlenecked in this Nothing. But I take the back roads, the boulevards, the avenues, upon which I see no one else.
For no one wants to go to the bottom.
The bottom is for losers, and losers are long out of style.
The bottom is for the poor, and the poor are never at the center of the crowd.
The bottom is for the hungry, and everyone longs to quench their thirst.
That is where I’m headed.
I might end up a poor loser stretched thin, but at least I’ll be able to la down every night, and gaze at the endless sea of stars up above, eternally moving.
Down here, the world will move at my pace. Who knows maybe someday, I’ll join the surge upward…
… but right then, at least for a few moments, I’ll be happy
This is what I believe.