i imagine a stagecoach...with one old, respectable passenger, riding along bumpy dirt roads in the night...twenty miles to go...through the night, he rests intermittently, aware but fatigued. as the morning sun starts to rise, someone young and fresh is visible, walking alongside the road...contentedly putting one foot in front of the other, breathing in the bucolic beauty in the dewy morning air...he hears the stagecoach and signals for a ride. the stagecoach comes to a quick stop and the heavy iron door opens slowly...inside, the old man reaches out a fragile hand to the young man...for some time, they ride together in the same space, the old man fighting his fatigue and the young man barely harnessing his intrigue as he watches the scenery outside the coach change...after several hours, the coach stops...and the old man struggles to get up and reaches for the young man to help him down...he kisses the young man's hand, and then walks slowly into the train station with no baggage. the young man gets back into the coach, faintly aware that he is now in charge of its course...this horse and driver, now willing and able to go wherever he directs them...

the stagecoach being me...the old and young men being my past and present inspirations...

the old, well-used inspirations gracefully departing with a loving welcome to the new inspirations that are taking hold and redirecting my life...