A day is not always meant to be defined—sometimes it can only be weathered. In a world of curated artifice, the true path is often the hardest to find.
The sunlight blasted over the mountain and announced its arrival in dazzling show of brilliance; I marvelled at its appearance and display of presence.
Others may draw the maps of your world and name your borders, yet the horizon is not always theirs to claim; it is vital to see the moments when the compass returns to you.
The past is not our destination, nor our only course; it is just the tide that brought us to this shore. Though we are born of its depths, the horizon we sail toward is ours to command.