Beauty is the Small Things

Sometimes I am
A shallow void

Looking for depth
Sometimes I am white noise

Jostling against myself
Looking for uniformity

Some days I get the
Benign feeling that I am
Dangerous, that I am wild
And untamed, and lost

So I write to myself
Long emails from the paid address

To the free one,
I read the words like

They were brand new, like
A baby saying his first ‘Mama’

Calling out after a fall
Because beauty is the small things
Like a broken soul, Ashiwel
Like that song I sing with no words

And sometimes I am elastic truth
Begging for belief

A pop-up ad interrupting myself
As I browse life, wild child

And life can steal our souls
But I still have mine, I think

Sometimes I am a stormy night
Waiting for the clement dawn
Sometimes I am a new year
Waiting for fireworks.



Hey there friend, I wanted to thank you for stopping by  to read this. Every year on my birthday, for the past four years, I write a poem that captures how I feel about the preceding year. The past year has been crazy, sometimes a little confusing, I have been lost and I have suffered moments of unparalleled clarity. I have often lost my mind , and I have had occasional lucid intervals. I have learned a lot, but the most important lesson I have learned this year is that life is just a series of phases and they all pass. I have learned to be thankful for what I have and what I am; for what I can become. And I have learned that it gets better. It always gets better. I hope this poem has captured all that. Carpe diem.




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