Is it my fate to be sititng in bed at 10:39 pm
trying to push out one-more-poem?
they can’t be pushed
only loving called from the caves that they hide in
the crevices within your heart
coaxed, called, soothed, spoiled,
delighted into the light
and is it my fate to be 27 years old
alone on an adventure towards meaningful living
trying to keep my cool
and live freely
trying to live the life of a poem freed from its crevasse?
And what if my life was a poem
and I didn’t know what was coming around the corner until I got there
what if listening, not planning was my work?
and opening not limiting was my life?
and loving not living was my home?
To learn more about my 108 Poetry Challenge or to donate click here.