Destiny
a smoke was cuffed between two fingers, the breeze wafting its pollutants about the lungs of others who walked by, oblivious of his presence. He stared off into future images. Head filled with brief recesses, but mostly with visions and schemes for newness. Finally, he snapped back into now and dumped the ashes while
gazing down towards various footsteps firmly pressing their way against the concrete sidewalk. He pushed his slouched body away from the antique building, slowly brushing hard fingertips against his temples. Uneasy with how he left, unwilling to go back. “I was wrong,” he contemplated, but “right” at the same time, briefly reliving previous moments. All he knew was back there in that place
with those voices of familiarity but his mind was somewhere in the future. Secretly, he was bright-eyed and hopeful. Even in uncertainty he was anxious and ready for the identity labeled happy. He pressed ahead. Peering nowhere in particular, hands contained in pockets, hat pulled towards his brow. Subtly planting himself in-line with others
who were chasing destiny.
jennifer n. shannon (jns) is an author, writer and artist. she questions life and is always searching for truth. the questions and the searching is what inspires thoughts, images, poetry, stories and everything else that is created.www.jennifernshannon.com
