Desert in Bloom

Riding along the desert river bend, made of dust, desert broom, rubble and beatuy. Note to self; Wear sunglasses next time, little bugs are flying into my eye. I feel worse for them, drowning in the muck and the mud of my iris. Yellow, just every where yellow. All the trees, flowers, brush, all themed in yellow, glowing in the early rays of golden sunset, mountains turning purple just like the cliche southwestern themed painitngs and sets. They really do turn pruple at dusk, es verdad. And they are majestic truly. And then this vital reminder and message came to me; The soldier can not run because there is a gun pointed both at his front and at his back. But the individual trying to grow can always retreat into the easy and familiar patterns of life and a more limited past.

I better keep pushin on, best not start to hide, because that is not what I need, not what I asked for. With dusk comes night and then always morning. Every day you can depend on that.