I am who I am—
my story, a wide open book,
its leaf-thin pages turning,
relentlessly—flashing before my eyes,
often before I can grasp what to write,
as I march on and on and on
in widening circles
spreading out,
diffusing like drops of food coloring into water—
a flavor unique to me—
at times, intersecting with others,
the colors mixing, mingling, befuddling the mind
as I look you in the eye
and carry on,
grateful for the company.
I'm on my way—
a work in progress, constantly in motion,
molded and shaped like clay,
fashioned into something completely new
by the curious hands of providence
as seconds turn to minutes,
minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days.
Time never ceases,
and I'm swept along in life’s currents—
still trying to figure out the right words,
I do what I can.
I'm on my way.
 Butterzworth · Wed Apr 27, 2011 @ 01:10am · 0 Comments |
