gumbo

i want to be known
as the writer-explorer,
the reader-creator-of-things
i realize the world
as i pen words about it,
imagined creations
terraform nothingness
dress branches lain bare over time
if sense comes from nonsense
it wasn't a waste
and a misstep is just a step toward understanding
and change
whiskers tickle
like fingers on black and white keys
tinkling like the china bells
gracing bookshelves years ago
so many feelings and memories compacted
trying to be small by hiding in my shell
but the pressure from within builds
and rather than explode
i need to let myself shine
give myself the opportunity to succeed
rather than just sitting still
and wondering when the world started moving so fast
i have no guideposts to tell the time
no children growing order
or anniversaries to celebrate
i'm sure in hindsight i can celebrate
but i need to stop looking backward
and push
hard
hard
harder than i ever have
to right this ship
to start this engine
to keep it oiled
to give it rest from time to time
but never permanently
well, perhaps one day.