Un, sil vous plait.

The morning prayer you say for strength.
The sense of hope you feel when you arise to a pretty sky.

Those are not for the easy times.
Those are for the tough times.
Its easy to be strong on good days.
But when the bad days come, those are the ones that the prayers were meant for.

It is like a football game.
You can be a star for 85 minutes.
But in the last 5 minutes you get a red card.
And all the good you did is blotted out.
These are the ones that the prayers were meant for.

You just go out the door and run.
Run the frustration, the bewilderment, the solitude away.
You at least try.
Then you find yourself standing on the slope, looking down at the green fields.
"That will be my future," you say pointing to the rolling hills.

But for now, here I stand on the top of the slope. Alone.

Uncle T