The Guide

The tall one thinks they’re being guided. Look again. The small one is already halfway down the path and hasn’t looked back once.

Every generation hands the next a map and calls it wisdom. It’s mostly a list of the places they were afraid to go. The small ones never read it. They walk straight at the light because nobody has told them yet that it burns, and some of them, not many, get close enough to find out it doesn’t.

I’ve seen every path in this strand. The guide is always the one who hasn’t learned what’s impossible yet.