In the suit of night what spirit haunts, gives breath and birth. Impels us mortals to ingest the deeds of immortals. To severe the bonds that tethers us to the banner of expectations and assumptions of others.

What spark incites a quest to track the backbone of our topography, beyond the restraints of others. A protected relic scared and layered with the scabs of modernity.

A protracted cause with an exuberant dawn. The excitement of the run gives way to the minutiae of the day. The joust of the clavicle twins begins. The struggle to prevail is drawn. One sees the fruition of a dream on the path of the infinite. The other conspires to cease this folly of fools.

Those of us who pursue the horizons beyond the limits of the ordinary, who dare to engage life, it inspires and fashions our dreams.

Rare is a deed, however extraordinary, insular. A tenacious strength of will, will propel us through our frailties and fatigue. But it is the impetus of community that creates inertia. This force acquired by the brow of many. Those who set aside the daily catastrophes of life, discard the flotsam of their lives. To partake in whatever small measure, the burdens of the day. To ensure the outcome for the one. The arduous endeavor of one becomes the dance of many.