LINES OF THOUGHT © 2013

I write like one who will never be,

For the words carry what I have not lived,

They are echoes of dreams that I drew,

On pages that time has not redeemed for me.

I write as one who looks from afar,

At a lost version of my being,

Who somewhere, in a bloodless way,

Walked paths that I did not know I could tread.

Because I erred, and in that error, I shape,

Carving verses that life did not choose,

But it is in the mistake that I also meld,

And in every word, I find the learner.

I write like one who seeks a future,

That in my hands has already unraveled,

But I persist, stubborn and sure,

To write what I may never be, perhaps.

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