I don't need a map to combat the burden I once shouldered like Atlas.

Even as I continue to step presently with forward speed, one second into the future gracefully, I recognize in time's regard I am past the past.

But to me maintaining guard; to the fact that life gets hard, I am not past my own past.

And yet at last I know I'll last as if someone was constantly turning my hourglass; someone who holds my head high and my arm level when it gets heavy waving that cutlass.