What is it that I love about falling apart? Is it about what seeing what shakes loose, what escapes or is set free. Is it The fear of dying, having never lived.
Am I certain that I existed before this moment?
Is my memory trustworthy and reliable?
Hard work does not exhaust me.
But half-hearted fearful daily exchanges weaken me.
Body and soul.
My hesitation, over-thinking and ruminating depletes me.
So, I lower my toe into the river, testing the water again.
The current pulls me in, captivating me with its promise of freedom.
Or did I perform a swan dive from the pier? Or was I shoved?
Winding, blinding, damned and deconstructed eroding into the bay,
I am the unwashed
washed to sea.
All directions veer into the impossible, uncharted, infinite, and divine.
Swallowed by the beast, I survive in her belly.
She spits me out into the eye of a storm.
And, my inner compass tells me that I am home.
Immersed wholeheartedly and finally into my purpose, I find meaning in everything that must be done.
I was meant to live in the storm, where things break apart and need to be put back together, where courses change in an instant.
And where my heart is needed.
And, I love that
“Blessings on your journey”