it was wet, burned and smeared,
its contents written in code.
though it was only ink and paper, it called to me,
yet at first i was unable to unlock its mysterious requests.
only as i watched the sun melt slowly into its temporary watery coffin did it begin to make sense to me...
beneath a diagram of bent lines and primitive arethmatic,
a note was hastily scribbled:
"build a boat out of destiny, or sink under tides of history."
sticking the note back into the sand,
i began building my own floating destiny...
where will i go?
i had no map,
no landmark as guide...
i chose to navigate bravely--
not by optometry,
not by astrology...
simply, carefully--
i will find my way by cardiology.
NB @ 10:47 PM
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