Patterns tell the story, show the way,

Doubt, guilt, uncertainty, all crashing together, predawn usually, piling up to a crescendo, forming a wall I climb over again and again,

Thus the day begins, most everyday,

A lifetime of climbing, up up, slip, up, slip slip, up up up…

Not sure why, not sure what, but pretty clear is part of most days,

This pattern, recognition of my usual path, daily trailhead, until it’s not,

It’s not when I wake up and give thanks and go,

Give thanks and go,

Break the pattern.