Is it lonely to stand so tall?
A mountain with nothing, no one else, in its view.
Is it dry to find you have no fear left,
and to know that the length of the universe is nothing but however many steps you take?
Is it terrible to be infinitely alive?
To have nowhere else, no end, no way to die?
how long is it, exactly, to be free?
When it’s at the scale of stars and dust, skies and earth, light and darkness, it doesn’t matter when you get there. There’s only one place to go, and you will get there when you get there.
It takes as long as it takes.
Each for their own.
You are never late.
You, simply, are.