Here I am
entering my third act
in much the same way
the second one began,
Keeping my eyes open
for synchronicity,
seeking out moments of joy
scattered amongst
the mounting losses,
and melancholy, lingering.
By now I know
the glint of them
will turn up
in the least likely of places
if I’m aware enough
to notice them,
Our time on this rock
truly is but a blink and, yes,
we realize it far too late
but at this point that’s cliché.
Those who’d like you to believe
they have it all figured out
will always tell you to “walk this way”
and will easily deceive
those starving for all the answers.
I say:
*stay hungry but
don’t swallow whole.
stay curious but
don’t grieve for what time stole.*
Let all your questions ride shotgun,
windows down, radio low,
chasing the sunset on
this same old, uncertain road.
It’s not just about
the blessings and the sins
or how the losses stack up
against the wins or
even what shape we’re in,
None of that matters.
In the end it’s the little moments—
a stranger’s laugh
at the coffee counter,
acts of kindness,
fireflies lighting up the dark,
rain against the window,
the sudden scent of lilac,
the warmth of another spring
reminding me I’m still here.
In this third act
I’m growing more weary
but I keep walking,
not because someone pointed,
but because joy and curiosity
draw me close.
The curtain, it will fall only once,
so until that moment,
I will keep connecting the dots,
collecting these joyous moments
until they add up to something
brighter than certainty ever could.
