Flow

Sometimes I cry because I feel like I’m not doing enough

Sometimes I cry because I feel I’m doing too much

And I will never know what balance is

Which is ironic for a Libra

Nothing means anything unless you internalize it meaningfully

True learning is not just knowing better but doing better

And every day I strive to be the person people think I am

Maybe they don’t see all the broken shards of glass because I’m an expert at repairing fragile things

And maybe they don’t know the danger in getting close to sharpness because I’ve never been honest about the shattered edges

I hate the idea of being any one thing

It’s hard for me to put my finger on it or name it, or claim it, or choose something as my own

Maybe because deep down I’ll never be convinced anything is my own

I don’t want to be attached to attachment, or nonattachment

They say flow is the key to happiness

And that’s all I’m reaching for,

When I laugh,

When I dance,

When I break character, or who they think I am

All I want is authenticity without the guilt

I want listening ears without advice or judgment

I don’t want to save the best parts of me for poems.

But that’s what it’s starting to feel like

And maybe it’s my fault for not being truer sooner, or bluer

Maybe I should’ve let them know a long time ago my river runs deep

Maybe I feel like everything else is shallow

I just want something that feels as warm and comforting as my deepness

As my aloneness.

I struggle with continuity when every other body disrupts my motion

Swaying to one song, everything else sounds like hell

Maybe I need to learn to turn the sour into the sweet

Or accept it, not change it,

Like I want the world to do with me

I’m proud of my evolution, and I would never want someone to discount what I’ve been through and where I am by wanting something more

Maybe that’s what this has been about the whole time

Stopping the wanting

Stopping the craving

Living in my body, in my home, even in isolation, if isolation is what breeds joy

If it breeds focus and deep realization

No river can run through this concrete and these bricks and steel

I contemplate alone at home like I’ve always been

Do they need to know the somber beauty of this moment?

Sometimes things are better left undivided

If I even try to explain the essence to you it will be diluted

I just need to treasure what I have

In the sacred moments in between all the nothingness.

The air where nothing is missing.

This is where life blooms.