The eloquence of life is that it is only lived once.
We can return to a place first traveled, never to be new again.
As delicate as a first kiss; although bitterly lingering then forever gone, it can never be new again.
I struggled to say my bolstered son, be one with this life of yours, for it is your only journey through this unrevealed place.
The burdening unknownness will be riddled with firsts and lasts, but as you journey child experience will guide your weakness, your temptations, your life.
I say to you son embrace your insatiable need to quench the thirst of knowing, the desire to hold what cannot be held and admire it from afar.
Linger in the lust of wanting to satisfy human curiosity and grapple with a colloquial substandard renaissance of being present and vastly engaged.
Bridle your stallion son, imagine the path over the majestic mountains and reach for the dawn of mirrored images and scattered reminders resembling, but never becoming what was first and is now last.
Describe and never classify.
Clarity is a void empty of imagination and creative flow. An energy more powerful than words, yet limited by need and pride, hope and misfortune.
Be known my son and believe. You are the forth coming and the last. Your path though it diverge at the bypass of road proverbially less traveled, will be traveled by you like no other.
Perception will deepen what preconception scarcely allows.
Be wise my son and on your journey occasionally break stride and run.