Stand by

“Stand by,” whispers my dream. “You’re not ready yet.”

“Why not?” I dare to reply, my voice meek.

“You’ll see…” It teases, but without judgment. “You can’t know yet.”

I sigh out my annoyance and do what the voice suggests I should – continue around the next bend until I encounter the next obstacle: a downed tree or fallen boulder, perhaps.

But nothing anywhere near that obvious arises.

“I should have guessed,” I think as more frustration percolates through my belly, clattering like gravel filtering down and through its vessel, back into the earth.

It’s hard to tell as I put one foot in front of the other, over and over and over, what exactly is shifting – it’s so soft and subtle, like a buzzing fly I might not even notice consciously. But still it guides me as it zips past my ears, its essence reverberating through the air like a baby breeze.

The road is long and steep. I am sturdy, steadfast. Stopping often to catch my breath. Sensing that slow and steady is the only way to go. Will I reach the summit? Time will tell. No one can know the ending until it has been written. I can’t worry about the journey if I want to summon the strength I’ll need to complete it. I must conserve every resource for the twists and turns ahead. I proceed through the fog, one footfall at a time. Breathe. Step. Repeat.