the direction of the sky, the celestial wonder of stars all clustered and scattered like my thoughts.
the direction of strangers' faces as they gaze upon me, kind wrinkles settling in upon the magnificent skin like the folds in aged velvet.
the direction of a blossom pusing through the cracks in the pavement,
the pavement that has been walked upon its entire life, feeling the pressures of millions of shoes, each uniquely heavy or slight.
treading along this very pavement that has been so abused, I found myself gazing down.
gazing down to ensure I could not fail, could not trip, could not fail, could not fail...
I hated to fail. I felt my worth slip noiselessly from my trembling fingertips each time I failed, and I felt I failed every day.
I spent so much time studying the laments of the ground that I missed the entirety of the world surrounding me, with its haunts and its threats and its dangers.
oh, its dangers...
but I failed to realize the universe was not designing to kill me;
it was trying to keep me alive.
and i failed to realize i was not a stroke of some sort of celestial mistake caused by a bumped elbow,
all this time i have been the craft of the stars,
and the direction of the stars is up.