I’m down there, somewhere
in the middle, underneath, after, and before
the shifting, moving, growing, breaking
waiting for
the angst
to
settle.
I don’t like symmetry; I just want to make sense.
Falling through the day like the music I hear; life on the tip of my tongue.
A patchwork of dirt, love, and bones. Immortal. Fragile.
A dream waiting to be realized; happening in the process.
I am His idea.
He is my Reason.
Psalm 139
