Definition

Definition

I'm looking for that line.
So that perhaps I can see,
which side I fall on.
But as I get closer
I see
That the line is actually grey.
And it isn't a line at all,
but space.
And time.
And I'm in it.
It's where I exist.

But there aren't definitions.
Or labels here.
Though I long for them.
It's what we are taught.
To decide something.
To BE something.
And say what it is.
Definitely.

But I'm not sure I can.
I'm just THIS.
You can't touch it or see it.
Or feel it.
It's just ME.

Riding

Still looking.  I'm out there.
I'm wandering, I'm blind.
I'm flailing arms wildly
in front of me, blank mind.

Where is it?  Is it there?
In the corner?
In the dark?

I'm pressing the questions.
Neither fire, nor spark.

Behind me, the guilt
brings tears, I swallow.

Take my hand
Lead me this way, or that way,
I'll follow.

But no one can say,
No one can tell.
Up to me.
I decide!

Close my eyes
Deep breath
Be present
Trust the ride.

Where I'm not allowed to BE

I don't allow it.
I won't.
This space that I'm in.
I'm here.
But I've covered my eyes.
And plugged my ears.
My hands, they adorn gloves.
And my ears, plugged.
I cannot BE in this space.
I've been told it isn't okay.
And I can't turn back now.
For what I've created is something beautiful.
Something more beautiful.
Than it would've been.
Or people could've seen.

It builds and builds and BUILDS.
Until I'm crazy and suffocating.
And then I write.
And I can breathe again.
Mostly.
Cause I'll never fully say.
I'll never fully say it.

Longing

Longing for connection.

Where I could say all of it.
And then it'd be forgotten.
But what a relief!

I wonder how that'd feel.
I long for it.

Lost

If I ever were to lose myself,
THIS is how it'd feel.

Flat.
Like paper is flat.

My hands continue their work,
no longer directed by my soul.

A major shift is taking place,
I recognize this.

But the work I have done is slowly crumbling.
MySELF is no longer leading.

If I were to lose mySELF,
Yes,
this is how it'd feel.

I hope I don't lose.

Grey Matter

A friend once said to me that she cannot stand the grey...that everything must be black in white in her world.

My world is one hundred shades of grey.

I told her, I LIVE in the grey.

I don't have to know.  Not always.

Though the grey can piss me off at times, I often find comfort in it.

I don't have to have answers.

I mustn't think just ONE way.

I can relax in the grey.

Our brains are described as "grey matter", afterall.

BLESSED

I have found mySELF, so many times...
Between the pages as I make sense of the words,
In front of my dresser as I button my jeans,
On the windowsill as I wipe the dust away.

I find mySELF and I smile,
Or I cry,
Or I make up lies and discuss them inside of my head,
Until I'm confused and can't remember how the discussion began,
But I know that I feel worse.

But I've learned about those lies,
And how to work past them,
and around them,
and through them,
And how to leave them behind.

So that I can smile again.
And I can continue to fine mySELF,
Whilst I learn, and dress, and clean.

When I was Twenty, I figured I was as Wise as I'd ever be.
That idea shrinks as I get Wiser and I realize
That I'm not as Wise now as I will be next week
Or next month
Or next year.

I adore how far I've come in this life.
I'm scared about how far I might go.
But I'm thrilled at where I am.

BLESSED.