and here I sit
with letters writ
by people who get me.

a beautiful and unexpected
time for being seen.

for groups, I've steered away and hid -
the sense of self ran dry,
but brave, authentic, courageous fun;
characterizations that make me cry.

who knows why I did dig my head
so deeply in the sand,
when points between what is and could lies within my own two hands.

that silly little metaphor I've researched way too much,
just to come to realize it's been here, strange yet such.

full speed ahead, some slow and quick;
the balance is okay,
and knowing fullness comes through taking each thing
day by day.