Wanting More

Wanting more.
Resembling a seven foot, black sooted playground slide.
You standing at the top, looking down it’s blotchy, silver aluminum and the charge that awaits you. 
There at the bottom, four men, in military raiment, stand at attention and wait for your concession.
Dressed for action, dressed for war, they seem to lunge at you. They grow all the more choleric as the minutes tick bye, bye.
As if, there had been some sort of mutual agreement. You would relent and they would devour. 
The taste of undeviating failure and discontentment, this is the slope from whence you would descend. Yet, you remained. Still there. To endure, at the top; Thinking that one could dismount
The jaunt down would not be painful of course...only, defeating. You hear the Spirit say. “You will not fail, you will not fall, you will not faint. I will give you an oil of joy for mourning.” 
He doesn’t hanker for your downswing or rejoice in your downfall.
He wants your masts well stayed. Grounded, rooted, established and sure. Burgeoned downward. 
Depth, rather than daring.
Be warned of the danger! Of living your life pledged to practical know-how. 
To, The Experience.
The slide will eventually end, you being left empty and despondent. 
Still, 
wanting more