I am discovering
That my history
Does not sit comfortably

I wonder
Why good things
Don’t always prevail

I search
I travel

This way
That way

Gathering morsels
Of information

To try to weave a crown
For my own head

I am working
Always working
Reaching out
For meaning

And yet I am restless
Anxious

Unhappy with
My partially formed thoughts

Worried that my crown
Will be false

What is it about a human
That makes them great?

Living with the past?
Living with oneself?

Learning to live with others?