Purpose

I can feel it sitting there

In the deep, dark pit of me

My story…or maybe stories

Trying to claw themselves free.

I push them down and down

And still they struggle to get out

Free from the darkness

That has trapped them so long

They fight up and out

Into the light for the first time

A few wobbly steps later

They stand tall, breathe, and live.

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an answer to Why?

My constant companion,
Never far from sight,
Always there for just in case,
How rarely you see the light.

An Idea of what could be, a future
For the two of us, you and me.
Grand plans created so alive in my mind.
In reality, likely never to be.

Untold stories trapped,
So many of them locked inside so deep.
Fear of Failure – lies told – doubt of oneself in truth.
Your unblemished pages, yours to keep.

Lifelong Joy

There’s something comforting in the smell
of old books.
A cacophony of life surrounding,
and Yet
In one small breath, an upturned
book on one’s lap,
an instant transportation to a
New and wondrous land.
Alone or with companions, always
a grand adventure to be had.
In Celebrations, great and small,
equal joys to be found
in all the infinite tragedies.
There’s no story that could be told
unworthy of such a worship
found in the simple pleasure
of a quiet day.