All the lines designed in constellations,
our max bet with each button push,
we gamble rides through time and win
a little friendship here, or love that lasts,
to find we’re human. How glorious is that!?
Some things need not be said of courses
taken, of slow gathers of the same ground
differently. It’s a random pull of the handle
where time and space spin in silence—
where the only things we know for sure
have been said before. Yet we believe in more
than what we see to choose our direction.
drycrikjournal 