I used to think I was meant to write my life’s
story to help humanity push toward a better place.
I did that, I wrote it, and nothing. Then I realized
that I could write about sticks. Or about a frog
that talks to a lonely child. It’s my passion to write,
and to share what I’ve written. When I do this,
I am full and my soul is content. Maybe someday
the other story will be ‘out’ but for now as long as
I’m able to understand that our sky has turned into
a million moons and that they all drip into the same
place, everything is, and will continue to be.
ps, I hope this lands well.