Chop wood.

Carry water.

There is endless wood.

We need water. Constantly.

"Life is a game made for everyone."

And I'm so bad at it.

The grass is growing every second.

Thousands of decisions ...

Swirl.

Wait and beg for decision.

And I forget.

I am weak and forget. 

Everything is a decision.

Everything. 

("This house is falling apart."

"How can I be an optimists about it?")

It's the only damn choice.

Because I have little souls in my life. Ones that I brought here.

And they are so fresh and beautiful.

They find delight.

Even in chopping wood.

Even in carrying water

Their optimism always

Always

Always

Surfaces.

But I know.

I am close to sinking it. 

I need to keep my eyes open. 

Now. Fast. And every moment.

It's the turning point. 

"Somehow we keep marching on"

Never has a song been played twice so close together.

And still I doubt.