It’s time. The train’s whistle is blowing, the smoke is rolling.
I am not sure yet about where will be my next stop, but is time.
This part of my journey is over, time to let go, and move on.
The good memories I’ll keep, very close to my heart. The bad ones, I’ll try to leave behind.
Without regrets, I can’t say. Always will think I could have done something differently, I could’ve done more. A sense of wrenching guilt remains.
Some things I expected to last forever. But I guess some parts of my journey are meant to be traveled alone. Some dreams of mine might be meant to be dreamt just by me, and by me only.
Behind me lays my history. Ahead, I expect new mountains to climb, and a new story to write.
The seasons have been changing, as have I. The gray hair is plentiful, but I wouldn’t go back. The season to be is now, and I feel ready to find my purpose.
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