Beam

The sun sets earlier now, I get caught out on the running trail and make my way back in dusk, the first stars clicking on in the east. The run catches my unease, as it always does, washes it away with the sweat along my forehead. I sat in a rich neighborhood of Alamogordo and projected my questions on the yuccas of their gravelly front lawns.

The answers came, as they always do, in familiar simplicity. In continued curiosity and the only way that ever made sense to my crooked lifelines: through words. 

You will write them down,
and then,
perhaps,
you will see how they are to be read.