prose

April 3, 2o12
Patiently pull through the storms of impulses to see the
fields in sight in retrospect my future, significance
of life and goal in all the work that needs to plant life there on that incredibly
fertile land, my home. My rebels never conformed never complied with what I had
and life was always chaos on the inside.Storm, Revolt, inadequacy to surroundings
forcefully pushed and pulled to enemies and foreign harbors. Torturing me with
dilemmas, contradictions and dead ends, wrecking my ships with high winds of
uncertainty and fear. My wounded sailors untying knots that anchored ships in
all the foreign harbors now felt the
breeze from home that’s nearby. No one promised smooth sailing, but now we’re
headed in the right direction. Forgive me life for losing all my men along the
way. I don’t know how this could have happened any quicker. I don’t know how
and why you graced me with these gifts that felt so wrong and out of place for,
oh my god, eternity it feels. I pray to have the strength I need for the
remainder of the way.