To Falling In Love With Where You Are

The series of conundrums, leaps, bounds, successes and failed attempts that led you to where you are now.  The disasters you've encountered, the places you've left parts of your heart to die lonely and cold like the empty faces that dot the street corners of the Leavenworth Zoo.  The beautiful mistakes and energy exchanges you've shared along the path toward personal enlightenment or finding a savior or persisting until you feel that you've made it.  The rooftops you've made your home, the places you've slept and left half full packs of cigarettes for the next inhabitant, the roads you've stomped along in seven pound boots with steel toes because you never know who you might encounter.  The cars you've ridden in the backseat of, sick to your stomach but singing along to whatever sound was seeping from the radio dial, the speaker keeping time to the beat of your own thumb against your thigh.  The cities you've screamed your praises of, then damned the next morning waking up to the light of dusk and old smoke creeping in through the windows you left open the night before.  The concrete walls hanging pictures of a life you lived before, a floor full of dusty memories you kick beneath the bed frame in hopes that you might forget the person you once were.  I'd like to make a toast to being in love with the existence you are persisting, the life you lead at the present moment.  Being alive and well, functioning just enough to get by but also enough to know you're worth it.  Believing that there's something else around every corner, for better or worse, to never stop chasing it.  To not worrying about progressing or regressing, just to exist and learn.  Enjoying the moments, basking in solitude, feeling the heat of a thousand bodies in the same room.  To loving the life you lead.