The unsung joy of tomorrow haunts me. The high possibility of rising above my fall flaunts the strength in me. It’s not the length of the journey but the ability to savor every moment. It’s not always about the honey or money but also the bitter moments. For they mature the mind and tongue, the same—that they may be sane and able to differentiate between tastes that last or not. And that they may not only take it in but measure what comes in. It’s the realization that the uncertainty of tomorrow is me. And that tomorrow is now. After all forever isn’t as much fun as today or is it? So I rise.