I’m entering a different stage the poems don’t come as often I needed to get so much out and I thought no one would listen so I started writing and writing and writing and here we are more than four months since I started and I’ve come so far and I still have so far to go and writing no longer feels like gasping for air but breathing softly alone at night no longer to be a necessity but nice, all the same and there are still problems and there always will be but these poems? I’ve said nearly everything that needed to be said I’ve done what I promised I would so, so long ago the poems were always an explanation a way to sort out my feelings but my feelings are still scattered my mind still flies free my heart is still kept locked away so why? why are the poems slowing? maybe this is the quiet the moment of rest a way to slow down take every moment see everything as it is teach me how to open up or maybe this is just the calm before the storm.
