All of my love by Led Zepplin plays in the background as I sit, sipping perfect coffee in front of the campfire after a rainy night. It was 1979. My 14-year-old innocence unsuspecting of the daring moves ahead to remove me from my cloud-like nativity. That power that pulls a young person into the complex fourth dimension of existence. It is a detour that one’s older self would tell the younger one to avoid at all costs.
It still rages on. There is a war indeed. Now that I am older, I watch my own sons take the detour. I know it’s power. I know the conviction of the heart of a young man to act as a human shield. Is it a right of passage? Is it a gauntlet that files down the rough edges of our souls? Is it better or is it worse?
But it’s all a mystery when you find you’re still on the road.
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