Now that I have shattered, now that I have broken and collected the pieces, it's time to sort it all out. And, the night sky above is full of stars and a bright pregnant moon. I have to figure out the path away, make a map of my intentions and hopes and discover the new path. All trails lead away from you. I could stay in place, waiting for you to figure out your heart and your thoughts and the curves of your mind. I could give you more time that I have already spared, and mark my X here on the map, dancing in place, looking for a treasure that I may never discover. But, I have given you all the time I can spare, and your time tables and mile markers have fallen short for the last time. I cannot spare you another minute, and you're having a hard time fighting back the years of tradition inbred into you. And, I realize I no longer need that from you, I have my own road to follow, even though it's the last thing I want to really do. The road-sign points forward ever, backward never, and so I make my way, leaving you somewhere behind where I hope you won't flounder, but I cannot be sure, and I cannot spare a thought. It's up to you to make it all fit for yourself, to navigate the roads before you, and although I can secretly hope that they will cross mine somewhere down the line, I will not count on it. I've learned not to count on anyone or anything other than me.