The Yellow Brick Road


The whirlwind stops and lets you pass.

You find yourself on a yellow brick road.

You see the maps of where you’ve been and you understand why.

You understand who is behind the wizard and what he has to say.

The turbulence is explained.

The sky above is starting to clear now.

Your restless DNA is still there and will always be there, but you understand a little more of the where’s and the why’s.

It only took forty years but that’s a Biblical number for testing, right?

You’ve been tested and now you’re ready to go out into the world.

The failures of yesterday and tomorrow no longer weigh you down.

The humor that sparks laughter is no longer a coping mechanism.

The fears have a face and a number and a name.

The questions—well, some of the questions—have answers.

The beauty of the violent storms lie in their peaceful wake.

It makes sense, some of this. A boy suddenly understands so many years later.

Off the road, on a balloon, over a sand dune, toward the fading sun, drifting in memories.

It makes sense.

It doesn’t right wrongs, but it explains a bit.

It sheds light in those places once dark and misunderstood.

It breaks the hard edges and softens the soul.

It whispers a good night kiss.

You see the road below pointing in an arrow and you soar ahead full of wonder and fear and excitement.

The boy will always be there.

But the storms have gone away.

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