I have discovered myself through the pieces of poetry.
My soul is scattered
across a field of
words.
Worry and doubt rain from the heavens
and nurture poems.

The darkest days bring the best poems.

And now the sun is out.

And a field of flowers
is here
to greet me.

Was it worth rain?

I cannot answer that.

I stare at my field
and wonder the same thing
over and over again.



Was it worth it?