trafficking in consequence

when you build a boat you must decide long before your flanks tip moisture which cross sections of grow rings will cleave to your hope for the future and which will carefully watch the shrinking orb of your past flicker into dust, both watchtowers of navigation are equally weighted, holding your gaze to the right notch of horizon and placing your origins squarely at your back 

if you can not remember where you began, the truth of why your flexed digits wanted it bad enough to carve and smooth and affix a catch of mystery to the fresh potential swirling inside you 

you can not make it to some thing new

we’ve seen it before, how a boat becomes a weapon, how a dream turns into a razor at your neighbors throat