the road's black heart

A heart shaped tar truck parked by the side of the road. I love the smell of tar in the morning.

It seems that Glasgow is a city being built. Every road under repair, bore drills dropping to the rockbed, buildings going up. A panic of spit and polish before the world descends on the city this summer for the Commonwealth Games. It makes for some frustrating commuting, but I guess will be worth it once it is all done.

Today, for me, the road was soft and smooth and tar scented. A hundred fine fortunes lined the way. I didn't notice most of them, but they were there. Sometimes the ease we move through our day masks the luck we carry to do such a thing. So I say a thank you to the invisible road I tread and the million year gene-journey, a felicitation of good timing throughout the generations that has led me to here. And right here, at this point in the road, it is possible to make everything right. To carry the weight of every single person that has resulted in creating me into this moment and heal it all. All it takes is an affirmation. And onwards goes the road, goes the journey.