Writing to me is liberating, a privilege (for it comes naturally to me) and moreover an expression of my otherwise inarticulated and perplexing emotions very conveniently entangled together.
It is ironical of how writing takes me into a whole new world, frees, opens me up to myself and the world around me. De plus, it gives me a bizarre sense of thrill, which I believe, my life otherwise lacks; meanwhile at the same time helps me preserve certain fancies which metamorphosize my ‘survival’ into ‘life’. Writing to me is felicity personified.
While lost in deep thought I ask myself a mélange of myriad questions: What does living mean? Who are we and what are we doing here? and then I think as though speaking aloud to myself: Life is abstract, for some- to sum life in a nutshell is the mere action of breathing, to others it might be happiness, fame, love or success.
But one thing which I have come to know for sure, over the years, is that you’ve got to be pumping and jiving and kicking all the time. So put your hair down, your hands- just throw ’em up and enjoy the ride while it lasts (a jiffy).
Looking back I want to seek euphoria, sea breeze, lovely smiles and sparkling eyes, young showers, superpowers, terrific hysterics and an aeon of the little things in life, that truly matter.
© achillesheelpoetry, 2020