‘The line between myself and the dreary, rain-soaked road became smaller each morning; until finally I found myself knee deep in sludge. My steps turned into a heavy, sloppy rhythm. Each night I sat by the fire and wondered if the road would dry by tomorrow’s noon. Sadly, I was always met by the same rainy morning.
“Sludge again, eh?” I would ask the morning light. The silence after that question always seemed to have a smirk about it, as if to laugh at my misfortune.
I did not hate the road for turning soft, nor the rain for causing it to be so. I often thought of cursing the sun for hiding.
– An act I did frequently in the earlier days.-
However, I find I lack the energy for that now, with all the trudging along the same muddy path for a few years and all.
No one seems to know when this blessed road ends. I hardly have any idea myself. I grow weary of it. Won’t stop me though. I’ll still greet the morning with a smile.
– Smile probably meaning a jolly grunt of “oh good. Rain again.” –
I meet few travelers like myself. Occasionally, I find another soul, trudging along, same as me. It warms both our hearts while we walk along for a little while. Eventually we part ways, silently acknowledging that our journey’s lead us down secluded roads; much like this one. And much like this one, I sometimes find the peace and beauty in my rainy morning.
So. Cheers. To another “sludge again, eh?” day.’