So close to the end. Only 10,000 sins left to overcome. Only a legion of stumbling blocks to turn into stepping stones. Only a horde of obstructions to manuever around.
Then the reunification for which I was born. Then the synthesis for which I began the arduous journey. Then the singularity through which I arise, only to fall again.
As in every rain atop the mountain. Every trickle and stream running down it. Every creek, brook, tributary and river: flowing ever onward to an open ocean. As in every vapor ascending the atmosphere. Every drop of moisture condensing in clouds. Every rainfall.
Ever onward, this journey. Ever old, and yet somehow, ever new.
setting sun
piercing the gathered clouds
the way through
for Susan’s Thursday photo prompt: Yearning #writephoto
Frank J. Tassone 
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