I remember that high lookout from where I had an overview of the room that was my life.

Heavy freight I lifted and moved over obstacles from up there.

I sometimes look back at that memory and see the old stairs going up, remembering all those times when I was looking down and to the other side of the hall where my future slowly grew.

I wish it were safe to go up there now, all these years later, and see where my future ended by the time I left that room.