Robert Frost

When you begin
genuinely, just like he said,
you’ll never know from the start
where it will end or how
When you begin with something on your heart
and in your mind but you’ll take whatever it gives you
just the same
But me
I’ve been searching for peace up mountain tops with my soul in my backpack, carrying that heavy hope around my neck digging in deeper with every step into the steep incline only to lose my grip
I lose my grip when I know that you aren’t the one and yet I keep chiseling at you
I lose my grip when my footing isn’t sure because I’ve fucked up my finances again trying to buy you shit that’ll make you think that I mean what I say
I lose my grip when I can’t figure out if I have the right personality on to complement the misery of never having what you are searching for in hand
the quest to get to me I take through you
The journey to love detours under your eyelids
You change form
once a brick wall so I become
a cannon full of fire so you change form
into water so I become the sun and then
you keep changing and I keep compromising and complaining and then moping and sulking and then cutting a cave into hopelessness and laying down and giving up and then something happens…
I remember I was on a mission.
I fill the backpack again with brick like feelings and a flashlight that has no batteries and take off.
You were lessons and scars and a few laughs and a recharge and dehydration and absolutely nothing in the grand scheme because peace and real love are on the horizon, it’s out there and so I need to begin again and waves of strength coming rushing into my thoughts, all of the poetry that had saved me before saved me again and I tie up my tennis shoes and adjust my sunglasses and think
I can try genuinely this time

as soon as I figure out what it means…

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