When I walked along my path I realized
that there was no rhyme or reason to reaching any kind of destination.
The mind will always wander
and the body just tries to keep up.

I think back to an old poem I wrote about an invincible flower.
I felt inspired by a flower when I was younger.
But now, I feel like I was naïve.
The flower was not invincible.
The flower,
although surviving many feet and cars trampling over it
in that driveway…the flower died.
All flowers die.
All dies.
So, why…just why?
I guess I just want to be a part of the conversation.
I want to contribute.
I want to love more.
I want to put that out there more.
I want to encourage life and kindness and generosity more.
But something still seeps into that,
something still struggles with the lack of balance.
I give money to a poor person and they’ll spend it on drugs.
I go home to help bring my family through troubled times,
and when I leave they slip back into them.
I try to find peace in writing
but the skunk stink of the kid smoking pot outside my apartment
distracts me from creation
and makes me want to shout at the top of my lungs,
“If you’re going to smoke outside my window,
get some better fucking quality pot!!!”

A friend asked me once,
“What happens when we take the road less travelled?”
I replied, “It becomes more travelled.”
That’s it, that’s all that life has to offer.

The only comfort I get is in sad songs,
and I yearn to write something uplifting
but all that comes out is this.
This melancholic trivial train of thought.

I’ve found myself walking backwards,
trying to ignore the demons there.
I’ve found my eyes averting the light ahead.
I know the end is always. The only always is the end.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember
how to put one foot in front of the other towards it.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember
that my eyes will adjust to the light
and that a smiling face might greet me behind it.

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