it’s about time to part away
it’s about time to walk in different directions
it’s about time to pull our feet and walk out
to enter a new door
to build another bridge

we don’t have to burn this bridge into ashes,
but no one will be responsible if this one went down because the wave swept it off of its anchor,
it is no one’s fault when it happens,
it’s just the wave,
it’s just the water,
it’s just the fate,
it’s just the life

I think I made a wrong turn somewhere.
I mean, I guess- well, it's embarrassing, but I just kept following my GPS
even when the roads got rough
and my gut felt a little strange
(you know it, right?  That twinge you start to get when you realize you have no idea where you are?)
and before I knew it,
I was in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe the batteries are low,
though you'd think they'd install some kind of warning about that-
I mean, people are depending on these things, you know, to get them places.
They've even got them in phones.

Google Maps, I hear.

Anyway, I really...I really think I'm lost.
Could you give me directions?

God, I need your direction.
I have never in my life
been as confused as I am
right now this current second.

Lord, You know my heart.
You know my intentions are pure.
Why can't I hear you?
Why aren't you showing me?

Jesus, I want to do what's right.
Show me where to go.
Lead me in the way
your plan says I should.

Holy Spirit, be my guide.
This what I pray.
Take my very hand in yours
and lead me along the way.

Your eyes are my night sky;
Eyes like stars
Stars that shine brighter than a burning fire.

I get lost in your eyes,
Yet stars give direction
Directions to your heart.

The waters lap around you
As if a centrepoint
Pulling all to surround you
When you are but merely
Just there.

You pull in tides and waves
Caressing and slamming into your
So called silhouette
That isn't even there.

You dally in that one spot
And when it pleases you
You vanish
As if you were only air.

And maybe you were...
And the water was just attempting
To fill in a spot
Of the moon's desirous rare;
Tumultuous silence

And once you make it known
That you are no longer there
The waters crush the air
Slam the grounds
And loses its tidal direction.
But it never comes close to
Your spot.
Not by an inch or a hair.

Just in case
You come back
Or could still
Be there.

No direction anywhere yet I know just to take it day-by-day
No direction anywhere while I wonder if it’s even needed
If direction isn’t simply for the weak
If the real option isn’t just in letting go

Writing these lines at 10 am in Barcelona
No fixed plan but to live day-by-day
Look into my shadow and see the reason behind this short of breath
Deciding to get some proper rest before facing the day,
I put my alarm at 11.30 am

Responsibilty
Respons-ability
The ability to respond
Not mapping out your entire life
Moment to moment having the ability to respond
Day-by-day without direction
The most responsible way you can live

Phone on silent sleeping through
1.30 pm as I open my eyes
Back to being depressed as I desperatey try and tell myself that it’s okay
That it really isn’t so bad what I’m feeling
Not believing myself,
dreading that day-by-day will never enough
my religion, my holy grail
The daily question of ”what is the right choice today?”
No path laid out, no decided way to walk
Nobody giving you orders nor pushing yourself for a goal
The act for the act itself
A freedom obligating yourself the constant question of,
”what is the right choice today?”

I wake up to the alarm as I hear her roommate in the kitchen
Dreading the encounter desperately hoping she will accept me as I’m afraid to look her in the eyes
Hating the fact that I just know she sees the state I’m in
The anxiety written all over my face
Surely thinking, ”what is wrong with this guy?”
This guy with no direction in life

Day-to-day, waking up in Barcelona
No fixed plan but knowing the time has come to look into my shadow
Day-to-day, propelling me to write poems
Do serious introspection, forcing me to be fully alive

I leave the kitchen with the implications it might have
Of being this guy who’s not more than what is presented in this very moment
Wondering how much it has to do with a lack of direction
Yet I wouldn’t want any
Nor could I try and force one on me would I want to
The only option being to come to terms with the fact that I have no idea what tomorrow will bring
Where I will be in one month, what I will do in one year
Life is not to be controlled but to be unfolded before your eyes
And if the prize for that is angst
What at times seems to be an everlasting short of breath
Then I choose the uncertainty of life
Rather than force a direction
A direction from my logical mind which doesn’t know ****, anyway

Writing the poem sooths me, as I for a moment accept my faith as the aimless drifterer
I ask a pretty girl outside the book store what she’s reading
Another girl inside only speaking Catalan if she’s finding anything interesting
Before passing by a punk with purple hair begging for money
”How are you?” I ask her looking at her five cups spread out
One for food, one for tattoos, another for vet, and two more for alkohol and ****

Take the anxiety as it comes with all my freedom
Sit down in the dark with a candle as long as it takes
Letting the emotions have their run
Only to wake up the next day with the very same question,
”What is the right choice today?”
No pre-conceptions, no judgement, no saying I should do this or that
Response-ability
Let my instincts guide me, moment to moment being all there is
Not as in watching Youtube or other so-called escapes
Fully engage and if you can’t,
take the huge amount of responsability needed of living day-to-day
Not falling into activites being about life rather meant to be lived another day
Unless, and if you can all the power to you, if you you can watch that kitty-clip with all your heart

What direction could I possibly choose anyway
Go to school
I love my freedom too much
Be a ***
Not really a direction
Neither is traveling
Work as bike messenger
More of a paid hobby
Be a poet
That’s not something you choose
A poker player
Not really something to choose
Devote myself to creative processes
But I wonder if I’m just fumbling in the dark
Desperately trying to hold on to something
When the reality is…