Capacities

I hear it as a faint calling. I hear it through the whispers of the part of the night that is almost day, the forward looking back, the cyclic nature of it all. I hear it. The capacities.

I am no longer restrained, but freedom is the worst form of bondage.

Greatness always calls in the middle of the night, when you are asleep, when you would like to stay asleep. When the dark recesses are the very crevices that take you in, imperfections and all. When the only people who could heed the call are those that can battle the heaviness of fatigue, of defeat, of the darkness itself. And I would like to have coffee, preferably talk with greatness eye to eye, ask some questions, and perhaps be asked some myself.

Ultimately though, I stop paying attention. I walk away. Because far is where greatness doesn't matter... at least for now.