the rise.

When I was at the bottom… the lowest rack of guns, cheapest drivers, kids size shoes… someone told me that you had to hit rock bottom before you could climb to the top. At the bottom of everything the top is all that is visible, and the middle is just a blur. The rise: a colourful variable. I said to the top of what? What am I climbing? But the person who had spoken was close to me and knew that they didn’t need to say anything more, just let me brew. A single thought can cause inner change and revolution of the soul. Anything that could spur a voyage from the gutter, rolling back into the road to be hit again by speeding vehicles, that kind of life alteration would have to come from within me, not from anyone else. Advice is worthless to those who aren’t listening, deaf to their surroundings, blind to self-destruction. But from the lowest of lows I began to listen. Listen to friends and to the nature around me. The air had stories and the streets held perspectives. And I spoke to myself, and I heard… And I climbed.