The only certainty is there is none.

Uncertainty it is said is the time to ride the waves, release creative energy, be in the moment...I'm not sure anyone who realized these wonders of not knowing what's coming next ever knew trauma of war. Woken in panic night after night, creativity is an exhausted dream of darkness a walk in the sun doesn't quell but for a fleeting moment of forgetfulness. The waves do not ebb and flow they loom large and threatening all around in wait of drowning this strong yet struggling swimmer against the tide. Every moment pulls back the past and hurls me into a future where this is no light, no picture of what could be as assuredly of what I knew was is long lost the further I walk. Relinquishing control has rendered me expectantly vulnerable to bombardment.

I feel threat with each determined step I take marching forth unable to sink into despair or rise in hope uncertain of either, sure of both but not yet and when I don't know. Holding on a cliff edge when letting go is what I need most. I don't know how, the mantle of decision has always been past to me, never before did I hand that back until now. Did I trust him with this two weeks ago? I don't recall, certain only this is a test not only of his character but of my durability too. Battleworn and weary I enter a new year on fertile ground no matter the seed he sows, what wounds are sorely reopened or soothed. Scars harden with time as attraction grows or fades dependant on who the other reveal themselves to truly be. I am here at two points in time waiting anxiously for the road ahead to clear the fog of doubt. Unable to focus on anything else I may as well stand still for a while and lean into this trauma of not knowing, trusting I made that certain decision for a reason.