Out of the Present

I find myself often dreaming about the future.  Keeping it in the front of my mind.  Daydreaming; focusing all my attention.  Because the present isn’t something that I like to live in.  

I find myself often remembering the past.  I tell stories about the good times, how good it used to be.  Because it used to be so damn good.  And I took it so for granted.  

My heart carries all of the bad times.  My heart carries all of the hard times.  My heart dwells in its own pain, even when I try not to.  

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I’m Out of Ideas

I’m tired.  I’m running out of energy, and I know that this is only a temporary thing, but sloth mode is not really my favorite.

I’m really excited about things happening in the future, and really I’m more than content with things happening in my present, but it’s like I have nothing to talk about.  It’s  like I have nothing to write about.  Though I am writing a lot.  I’m just not writing the things that I used to be so excited about.  I’m not stagnant, but I’m something?

I’ve pulled away again.  But I’ve pulled into who I want to.  It’s just really hard to express these things without being heard.  I cannot be heard.  Not yet.  Not now.

So I’m out of ideas.  My life is so good, but also, I feel so rough.  It feels so hard to celebrate.  It feels so hard to go on living a normal life, as if nothing is missing.  Everything might be missing.  Or maybe not.

I wish there was a way for me to share who I am.  I wish there was a way to be genuinely known.  I think I want to learn more than vulnerability.  I think I want to learn how not to have walls.  Yes, protection is important.  But intimacy can be so secure in safety.  I want to find that safety.  I want to know what safe really is.

Flow

In her persecution she loses herself
Forgetting all that made her sanctuary
All that kept her pure
For something that could never keep her here

Desperate for recognition
Searching for love in too many places
Using and being used until there is nothing left
She is dried up

A river bed
Crying out for its stream
A trickle of distant past
Can she remember?

She once flowed freely
Never expecting to be captured
Bottled up
With no clue as to what is actually being held

Yet she’ll hold on
Not sure how she plans on letting go
Though her waterfall escape is inevitable
She’ll remember herself again

Stars, Like Dreams

Stars, like dreams, are something quite different than they might seem
They come out at night, pinholes in the sky
They promise to lead us toward the truth
Yet constantly distract us with little, white lies

Because stars aren’t pinholes
They are a million miles away
Unreachable
Unattainable
Flaming balls of fire that we find oh so beautiful
That we’ll never stop trying

Stars are always present
Pictures of the past
Promises of the future
Though they often go unseen
As the city lights around us drown out the stories above the skyline
While our dreams get lost somewhere in the byline
In chasing them we forget to read all of the guidelines
So here we are, on our knees again

Stars, like dreams, are larger than life
We pick our favorite to keep us warm in the morning
Looking for meaning in the smallest details
Keeping us up at night

Stars, like dreams, give us something to wish on
As we lose sight of the vision
Forgetting to keep moving our feet
Thinking we’ll get there if we just keep our eyes open

But sometimes, on summer nights
Stars, like dreams, are something to look forward to
So grab your blanket
I’ll go stargazing with you