Hit the road hit the sky hit the welcome mat

There is a moment when the sun and the sky become the same,
and the sea flows into the desert

with a smile and a winning sigh.

But that moment is less a time of mutual joy
than the sky
smiling at itself.

It is an instant of realization,
formed by the quiet contemplation of the truth,
and the inevitable nature of the cycle.

Which is, to say, the time when the truth no longer hides,
and the desert sees itself for its own desire,

each morning swimming

to overwhelm the sea.

Which is, to say, the time when the truth no longer hides
and the sun welcomes the dawn as
its rebirth
and as its conception.

For the man and the woman, the sky and the sun
are the elements of their destiny.

Their truth is unfolding as the sea washes
across their canvas.

It cannot be fought.

It is one.

It cannot be broken.

It is whole.

And it smiles and it laughs and it accepts its future.

For the man and the woman, the sea and the desert

are the friends that they have.

They welcome the New Year, openly

believing

in their reality.

Beat the drum.

Hit the mat.

Leap on the road.

The realization is that there is no realization.

Only a truth that it must be,

unless they do not want it to be,

and then it is not.

No complication.

No fear.

No conundrum of pain and conceit.

It is here, right now, no more

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Hit the road hit the sky hit the welcome mat by 


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