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Driving On The Wheels of Destiny

I am beating myself. I am saying to myself, no access. Even the best compass wouldn’t give me hope, because where I stand would confuse it. This is a place of riddles – riddles that puzzle, but have no one with the wisdom to interpret them. There are no lanes – practically no directions. It’s a remote habitat – inhabited by only those that have been dealt uppercuts by this reckless life. Yes, they said it’s a road, but it obviously has no lanes. This is the summary of existence – the untold story – the unedited version – the one we don’t want anyone to read, all because we’re all painters, colouring images on the boards of life, to make everything look attractive, like we were born without pains, and like we lived without pains. But every history is hidden in mystery. Even our own history – we don’t tell all the stories, because there are bits we don’t want people to hear. Sometimes, in seclusion, we sigh, just to get a little relief from issues with no dotted lines to sign. But there are bold signatures in our hearts, and for every sigh, it’s a sign. As you sit on the sofa, or lie on the bed. As you stare at the roof above your head. As you look into the clock and in your mind, turn it anti-clockwise. In your heart, you travel into the medieval, you visit the stone ages, you peep into the years when you slept in the caves and ate what you weren’t sure was food. You survived. You did survive on that road, although, it had no lanes.

You had the will – a will that was empowered only by hope. You saw nothing, except the deep-rooted loneliness and agony, but you were ready to paint a new picture that’ll define your tomorrow. They said you weren’t a talented artist. They said you wouldn’t be able to draw a leaf, talk less, a dream. They were ignorant. You don’t need a talent to paint a tomorrow – all you need is a determination. You don’t win by fiction – no, no, no. It isn’t all about diction or persuasion. It’s all about telling the true life story, unedited, so that those that read the scroll will roll out of the cold, and realise that life could fold, but they must never let themselves down by going behind in the poll. So, add your bits to life by doing beats that are symphonic – add to life, a harmony that can make everyone wriggle in the right direction. Don’t stand still, and when you move, turn right – no loitering, no standing, keep moving.

You pushed your way out of incarceration. You defined your path, and sweated to make a lane. You built bridges where the rivers stood between you and your future. You proved that hope and character never disappoint. You’re a child from a road without lanes. It’s a road without lanes.

To those driving on the wheels of destiny, or flying with its wings, and are frustrated by the eternity of time, don’t take your hands off the steering, or your energy off the soaring, because the lanes you path will lead you to the dream you see. Don’t settle midway to your destiny – keep your strive. They said you were a mere pebble, so they trampled on you – they never saw the diamond in you. You’re still in tears because ordinary clays abused you. Pick yourself up, hero. I say, pick yourself up, hero, and move on! People prefer you when you have no destination. If you stand for nothing, they love you. If you go for something, they hate you. But keep standing, keep going, keep believing. You’re on a move to fulfilment, though, you came from a road without lanes. Don’t stop moving.

When no one saw, I killed the lion. When no one was looking, I killed the bear. I didn’t need an ovation; I just did what should be done. So, when I now kill giants, I didn’t learn to fight in a laudable contest – I learnt to fight to save my destiny – I learnt to fight to save the destiny of the picture in my mind. I don’t fight to impress – I fight to win, because I once walked a road without lanes.

On the road without lanes, sometimes, the only music you must dance to, is SILENCE. No recognition. No appreciation. No motivators. Your energy, all come from within. You’re ready to fight, you’re willing for flight. You have the adrenaline that makes you fight and fly, without a single fright because all your life, you’ve been made to fear by everything around you, but you can’t take it anymore. You’re braving it this time – beating all the odds that held you down for ages. This time, the rules don’t count, because you’re driving on the wheels of destiny where the road has no lanes.

You were rejected, denied, refused – all the negative words that depict stagnancy were unleashed on you, but only builders without SENSE reject stones that are SENT. You were sent for a purpose – you’re a response to life’s unanswered questions. You were treated like a rusty needle on the floor of an abandoned, very dusty basement. Yes, maybe you came like a needle, but their expressions say you’re needless, because you weren’t more than the size of a nipple. They left you in the basement where the sun ray will never catch your attention. They climbed the ladder with their skin tight attire, but their ego ripped their fabric to the letter. They looked down to the one they demeaned, and found you, an answer to stop the shame that’s impending. You’re a lost boy from never land – the needle that gave answer to the riddle.

To all those in the basement, cut off from illumination, I say to you, dream on. To all those standing on the edge of the gulf that separates them from reaching their goals, I say, dream on. In your mind, keep reaching where you see. In your mind sight, keep perceiving, keep visualising. One day, you’ll touch for real, what you see with your inner sight. Crave for your future. Build castles in your mind. Design the mansions in your anatomy. Become the hero you want to be, maybe, only in your head for now. You may be on a road without lanes, but soon, you will ask yourself how you got to the place that only the great inhabit.


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Ken is a leadership Motivation, Strategy and Personal Development Writer, Blogger and Speaker. He writes for a number of magazines and blogs. He is also a mentor and published author of several books.

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