A Ride From Persephone…

“The world is like a ride …”

In recent years I’ve noticed things definitely aren’t as they seem. Maybe it’s age. Personally, I prefer to think it’s because I’m more perceptive than I once was. The subtle things the Universe throws at you to see if you’re truly paying attention… you know, hints of déjà vu, guideposts are what I’ve come to call them. But I’ve also learned you don’t talk about such things. Keep it to yourself. But you can tell when someone of like mind comes along, they know too… It’s an unspoken thing. But they too are patient. They’re in no hurry to make things happen. They too are enjoying the ride.

Sadly, too many people are immersed in racing to the finish line that they don’t realize there isn’t one. Chasing a dream that they can’t even describe. They know it’s out there somewhere, say they’ll know it when they see it, but yet many never reach it. They either die or lose sight and give up. Either way, that sucks. What a waste.

I recently acquired the title of Bitch. OK. Simply because I don’t play the game anymore. I’ve realized there’s more to this Magnificent Ride we’re on than those I’ve known will admit. They, like everyone else, are too busy chasing the invisible, inevitable void. I’ve no time to chase a phantom.

I prefer the term Accidental Survivor… To begin with, I started this journey by oversleeping… missed the bus. But when I did wake, I took my time gathering all my stuff to prepare for the journey.

I often fancied myself Mitchell’s Black Crow swooping down for something shiny … repeatedly. My dive was beautiful. My wings strong. My feathers an illustrious black. Then I heard the train whistle blow. Time to go. Crap, I ended up taking a fucking train that apparently had mechanical issues and a conductor with a crippling case of ADHD. I bailed to find my own way. Looking back at where I’d just traveled and what was before me… The choice was obvious.

I traveled through some questionable neighborhoods. I even took a chance a few times camping just off the tracks where the hoots of the resident owl, awkwardly complimented by the distant banjo jamboree of the yokels, lulled me to a heavy sleep. And after lumbering along the tracks for however many eons I’ve been traveling, with what little wisdom I’ve acquired, I feel I’ve finally arrived at the right depot…
From Persephone42


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