Jumping off a cliff into crashing blue waves
Sledding down a hill of powdery snow
Running across a golden horizon
Spending time with people I love and faces I know
Listening to soft melodies of music
Even doing dull chores
Planting something new
Breathing in the misty, fresh outdoors
Just simply laughing
Climbing up an old pine tree
To live each day of life
Every moment is the reason for me

There is time for thought
During this daily walk
There is no need to achieve
No need to count steps
Or tally blocks or miles or minutes
Leisure is on-deck
Time away from work
Time away from expectations
Time when the only eyes evaluating
The steps, the distance, the pace
Is you

Pressure mounts step by step
Shifting attention from the trees
The falling leaves, the birds,
Returning to self-centered issues
Returning to thoughts that evaluate
Judgments about the past
Become concerns for the future
Has enough been accomplished
Has enough been stored
For what is to come

Current experience happens
Yet passes by
Without appreciation
Without being savored

Being becomes anxiety
Being becomes guilt
Being becomes non-being

The question is repeated
Constantly nagging
“Why is it so hard to become
Aware of the present
And why is it so hard to stay
With the moment?”

Will life be long enough
For one to accept
That this is good-enough
That this moment
Is life and it is good enough
Being here, being now

How can I taste thee
When I have never mouthed thee

How can I smile at thee
When I never know what joy is

How can I listen with glee
When my heart has never opened up within

How can this touch moved me
When I have no none, any memories

How can I have ever lived
When am here yet have never been

Do rhetorical questions serve a purpose?

this is me,

hurting, but healing with care,
and living with purpose.
falling, but dancing with grace
and keeping my footing.
trudging, but keeping pace
with someone who's been this way before.

head high, not bowed low.
speaking up, not keeping it down.
living loud, not hiding out.
welcomed home,
not cold shouldered, but bolder
in the image of the original.

now this is me!

I thought I knew
He said it was too boring for him.
So I didn’t write for a period of time
Maybe that's where I lost a piece of myself

Then I had a cause
That cause became even more ill
My cause was slowly dying
Now, so was I

I had to keep searching for someone to write for.
I looked in dark and unfamiliar places
Getting myself hurt and traumatized in the process.
I had given up
I was done writing

Until one day
I bumped into a new “who”
What made him my favorite was that within him
He had so many other things I could write for

He kept me writing
Made me stronger
Wiser
A better writer

Some of the things I write for hurt me
Maybe that's why I write about them
Maybe i’m writing for healing
Or maybe i’m still just as lost as I was
That would mean i’m writing to find something
Possibly myself?