I still don't know what I'm doing,
But I know how it starts.
Magic floats through my fingertips
The sun rises in my chest
Slow. Warm. Orange.
And I think of a better place
And I wish for a slower pace
And I dream of embodying grace
And I dream
And I think
And I wish
For days to drip by like honey
For nights to end bittersweet and glowing
For more time to savor the moments
The ones you know that count
I think that's what writing really is.