Out This Mout...tain


Night before I blow the town of Denver as my town of home. Big feelings. Some of them involve keen frustration. Though, I only point that truth out to prevent myself from crying again about the things I am leaving behind...the people...the situations...and who I am.
Some parts of me are supposed to die as a result of this move. I want to think that I know what those parts are. It's apparently the good kind of death. I can only hope. I've experienced enough of the bad kind of death, thank you. Not that any one person is really prescribed a limit of death in their lifetime. No one gets a pass, as they say. And as I have learned. Is this life about the life or is it a long (or short) preparation for the end that follows it? An almost pointless question. Is the mind most important? It is the mind that causes the most change? Or prevents it? Or...seems to prevent it? Stupid questions for one as I am. Stupid because I can only worry and never commit to understanding. Stupid because I am alone. Good questions for company. And what will my company be in the next two years? What indeed?

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