Scout on You/ Focus

Focus. Carry yourself through the movements and the rhythms, the light and the dark, the sun and the moon shining on you as you stare into the sky every night and every day, not for answers but for distractions. Carry me away, you tell the stars. Carry me away because I can’t focus. Get used to the silence, to the droning of the wind like the sky, telling the world to remember you when you can’t remember the person you were just last week. Focus on the voices that enter the beats of the wind and stars as they sing to you. As they tell you to focus. Chase the pavements, chase the promises they tell you as you skin your knees.

Someone was just around the corner, you tell yourself. Someone who could tell you to focus, someone who couldn’t sync themselves with the sun, the stars, and the wind. You remember them, but will you remember you? Your rhythms are defined by their shadow, incapable of finding their definition without the sounds of others. In this atmosphere, you pour yourself. You pour yourself so that you may focus. Inspiration, something meaningful, something worth remembering, it could be here, but you know it isn’t. If it is, it would require a sacrifice you will not give or can’t afford. But you can afford to carry yourself on these open plains under these open skies defined by the space you give them.

 Chase your own shadow, because what good can come from chasing those pavements? Focus. Don’t pretend like you miss them, when it is only yourself that you miss. The version of you that was focused. The version that could trace their thoughts, that could trace the rhythms of their winds to the influence of others, that could tell the difference between their symphonies and yours. Focus.