The wind whispers through the trees and my heart flutters
At the graceful displacement of a single leaf.
The treetops dance,
Swaying slowly like an old man,
Gently rocking to the tune of a song long forgotten.
For once, I am still
And my soul is able to hear
with the precision of a million hummingbird wings.

The story is mine.
The voice behind the words that dictate where I will go
Is my own.
I belong to no one,
And as I write my path, I wonder
Whose story will entangle with mine.
And I know
I have to accept
The roles imposed upon me
Because as much as this is my story to write,
Yours belongs to you.

I haven't finished every book I've ever read
So it makes sense that I may leave some chapters incomplete as well.
Sometimes, in place of turning the page,
I'd prefer to close the book --
Burn it, perhaps.
But even as the library goes up in flames,
You will always be my favorite book on the shelf,
And this summer the best chapter.

I've forgotten my legs,
how to hold myself steady without leaning.
I've been so busy finding my voice
I lost the value of shutting the **** up
to let the silence show me where to go next.
The Earth spins and no one is around -
what a reminder how important it is to maintain your center,
since they don't make helmets to protect you from your own mistakes.

Won't someone just turn on the ******* lights already?
It's so **** dark I haven't been able to see clearly in
I couldn't tell you how long.
I thought the sun was finally rising
not long ago,
but as it would happen
it was me,
only forgetting my last candle was lit
and before I could warm myself up,
it burnt out.

The further I trudge through this journey,
this trip to the center of me,
the less I recognize the voice that slides from my lips.
These hands are merely extensions,
a way for me to clutch this word and all I've known,
grappling for a lifeline to hold me steady.
The signs these eyes perceive -
the pain they have held,
the fear they have tried to ignore -
they're simply reading a book that
I've written,
yet
I don't know the ending.