February 19th, 2018
The lamps along the trail were out this morning, and the light from the torch strapped onto my forehead caught the fog of every exhalation – obscuring my view of the path. I reminded myself to lift my knees to clear the roots I couldn’t see. I reminded myself to trust the few feet of trail visible in the tiny spill of light, and to ignore every opening in the darkness that looked like a new possibility.
Ren Powell, Poet | Playwright | Teaching Artist 
What’s your perspective?