Asantewa

“Knowing how to wait. To conceal. To absorb. To surrender. To acknowledge the best. To change the worst into the not so bad. How to lose and recover in the same instant that frivolous thing, a taste for life.”

People will permanently be temporary.

And I dream too much and I don’t write enough and I’m trying to find God everywhere.

Don’t forget: that you’re human. It’s okay to have a melt down. Just don’t unpack and live there. Cry it out and then refocus on where you are headed.

I get quiet. i don’t talk. i prefer silence. Loud music and a quiet desk lamp are my poetic scenery when depression hits. There is something familiar about writing a poem vs typing a poem. So I sit and ponder like a turning signal left blinking and blinking until thinking is all that I am but i know that i can be so much more and i’m trying but I am often wrong. There are different versions of me versus who I am - I’m still an empty canvas, an uncharted territory. I exist so soft, soft and slow. I lack colors, so I blue my blues when I think about me, us. There goes the flowers, every version withers and wilts from skin to bone. Another version of me has stars painted on her dark complexion. Maybe one’s writing the same poem. Maybe we’re having the same thoughts. Which star are they under? Do we share the same fingertips? maybe they hold the moon tightly. Maybe one day i can become a masterpiece full of depth and wisdom so breathtaking it hurts to look at. But until that day, I’ll simply and quietly exist. Waiting for that moment. Wishing for that moment.