Uncertain drought

Inspired by the atmosphere of the "Love Drought" instrumental.

What is this life?

What are we gonna do?

What does it come down to?

Walking.

Pedaling.

Slowing.

Running.

Moving.

Searching.

Finding.

Losing.

Beginning again.

There is light—

higher than before—

until it isn't.

The sky opens,

then closes.

Heavy tones settle in.

Still...

we keep going.

Maybe that's what people call resilience.

Or maybe we simply don't know what else to do.

What is this life?

What are we gonna do?

What does it come down to?

Life gets better.

Then it doesn't.

Silence.

Waves.

Uncertainty.

Mountains.

A few scattered okay's hidden between storms.

Enough to remind us

that hope still visits.

Somewhere along the way,

everything appears held together—

a thin spine,

steady enough to carry who we think we are—

until something shifts.

Then everything separates.

The distractions leave.

The noise quiets.

And we're left with ourselves.

You to you.

I to I.

If nothing changes,

nothing changes.

What does it come down to?

Maybe that's why I keep asking questions.

Not because I expect answers,

but because certainty has never stayed long enough to introduce itself.

Maybe it's unfair

that what existed before us—

land,

water,

trees,

the sky—

can belong to someone.

Priced.

Measured.

Owned.

Owned by who?

Then again...

maybe ownership was inevitable.

Greed asks for more.

Fear protects what's already claimed.

Without boundaries,

would we have peace—

or simply different wars?

I don't know.

I'm learning.

What does it come down to?

Maybe we're all trying to survive.

Maybe we're all trying to belong.

Maybe we're all trying to make sense

of a life none of us remember asking for.

And yet...

we wake up.

We move.

We search.

We love.

We lose.

We hope.

Again.

What does it come down to?

Maybe not finding every answer.

Maybe becoming someone

who isn't afraid

to keep asking.

Until next time, my Vines

- A. Vale