Plans

If the depth of your well
Is defined by the length of your thought,
Understand that it’s in the complacency of our days
That we often calculate our trajectories.

With anxious negotiation
That forgoes a level of reassurance,
It’s easy to confuse nascent attempts at progress
With deepening regress.

Indeed,
Of moments taken at face value,
We’re often astounded at the little which appears.
Drawn, instead, to our ever-present fears.

Surely the day will come
When your clarity is once again restored.

When clouds that were once barriers
to such lofty considerations,
Will find themselves porous,
Bringing water that will

surely ease
the journey to the top.

Oh, of plans, it must be said,
They are made to endure.

When I originally wrote this, I must confess I was mostly concerned with deriving some self-confidence, rather than making it any sort of commentary on life.

Having said that, the more I consider the events around me, I continue to find myself returning to those last two lines. As I look around this sprawling college campus, I see a sea of people: some know exactly what track they’re on, while others are barely hanging on, struggling for stability and direction. Regardless, what keeps everyone going, fundamentally speaking, is the notion that just as the past has come and done it’s bidding, the future—be it a minute from now, a year from tomorrow, or a decade from graduation—holds a significant amount of potential.

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