But, they're really two parts of the same road.
He sees the dusty footprints behind.
He sees the fresh, open road ahead.
He sees totally cliche images.
Neither the stage he crossed nor that sheet of pressed, dried, wooden pulp brought about miraculous changes.
He still makes mistakes.
He struggles to write, think, be creative.
He trips over flat surfaces.
Yet, grace continues its monsoon season.
New starts, new opportunities, new relationships.
More clarity, more understanding, more joy.
He did approximately nothing to deserve these things.
It's pretty scandalous, this road.
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