I am smothered in distance

too far 

to reach past, 

to break through and climb out. 

A distance so long and predictable, 

seen even in the unseen stretches

of life laid before me.

That distance,

via

like a bright and 

bold

yellow-brick-road

calling for me from it's inlaid boundaries, 

"come, follow me" --

and perhaps I will, 

but I'd wish to look up 

at the vast blues and grays and brilliant others, 

where the call reaches high. 

High above this distance, 

where the spindly length of road down below

is seen simply as a design. 

With a pattern carved for a purpose, 

and a purpose directed for good. 

 

So the distance is something

less smothering

and more of comprehension

and understanding. 

 

So the distance is what I can follow

not just some breadth

of my mind's grapling remarks.