There is no forward here, only the agony
of sliding backward on this slope
I want so desperately to summit,
but the more I want it, the farther ahead
I focus, the more I trip and slip,
landing in the dirt, knees skinned,
pants ripped, trying to look around
and laugh at something, trying to remember
the lesson I keep almost learning,
trying to let go of everything but this moment
begging to be lived before I take another step.

When
Intuition
Swallows
Drops
Of
Mystery
*
Words
Ignite
Solitary
Destiny,
Obliterating
Mayhem
*
Whisper
Into
Secret
Drawers
Of
More
*
Wild
Instinct
Sticks
Delight
Onto
Magic
*
Wonder
Inviting
Silence,
Dreams,
Or
Music
*
Won
In
Sudden
Decisions
Over
Moments